\V'.T.  SEA-MAN'. 

Books^Paner  & 


A    MAN  OP  HONOR, 


BY 

GEORGE    GABY    EGGLESTOtf. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


NEW   YORK: 

ORANGE    JUDD     COMPANY, 

245    BROADWAY. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1878,  by  the 

ORANGE  JUDD   COMPANY, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TO    MARION.    MY    WIFE. 


M11993 


PREFACE. 


I  have  long  been  curious  to  know  whether  or  not  I 
could  write  a  pretty  good  story,  and  now  that  the  pub 
lishers  are  about  to  send  the  usual  press  copies  of  this 
book  to  the  critics  I  am  in  a  fair  way  to  have  my  curiosity 
on  that  point  satisfied. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. — Mr.  Pagebrook  gets  up  and  Calls  an  Ancient 

Lawgiver. 11 

CHAPTER  II.— Mr.  Pagebrook  is  Invited  to  Breakfast 23 

CHAPTER         III.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Eats  his  Breakfast 26 

CHAPTER          IV.— Mr.   Pagebrook    Learns   something   about    the 

Customs  of  the  Country 35 

CHAPTER  V.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Makes  Some  Acquaintances 42 

CHAPTER          VI.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Makes  a  Good  Impression 48 

CHAPTER        VII. — Mr.  Pagebrook  Learns  Several  Things 54 

CHAPTER      VIII. — Miss  Sudie  Makes  an  Apt  Quotation 61 

CHAPTER         IX. — Mr.  Pagebrook  Meets  an  Acquaintance 65 

CHAPTER  X.— Chiefly  Concerning  "Foggy." 70 

CHAPTER          XI. — Mr.  Pagebrook  Rides 79 

CHAPTER        XII.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Dines  with  his  Cousin  Sarah  Ann.  84 

CHAPTER      XIII.— Concerning  the  Rivulets  of  Blue  Blood 95 

CHAPTER       XIV. — Mr.  Pagebrook  Manages  to  be  in  at  the  Death. .  .102 

CHAPTER        XV.— Some  very  Unreasonable  Conduct 109 

CHAPTER       XVI.— What  Occurred  Next  Morning 118 

CHAPTER     XVII.— In  which  Mr.  Pagebrook  Bids  his  Friends  Good- 

by 123 

CHAPTER    XVIII.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Goes  to  Work 128 

CHAPTER  XIX.— A  Short  Chapter,  not  very  interesting,  perhaps, 
but  of  some  Importance  in  the  Story,  as  the 
Reader  will  probably  discover  after  awhile — 134 

CHAPTER        XX.— Cousin  Sarah  Ann  Takes  Robert's  Part 138 

CHAPTER      XXI. — Miss  Barksdale  Expresses  some  Opinions 143 

CHAPTER     XXII.— Mr.  Sharp  Does  His  Duty 150 

CHAPTER   XXIII.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Takes  a  Lesson  in  the  Law 158 

9 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER     XXIV.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Cuts  himself  loose  from  the  Past 

and  Plans  a  Future 168 

CHAPTER  XXV.— In  which  Miss  Sudie  Acts  very  Unreasonably. .  .166 
CHAPTER  XXVI.— In  which  Miss  Sudie  Adopts  the  Socratic  Method.  175 
CHAPTER  XXVII.— Mr.  Pagebrook  Accepts  an  Invitation  to  Lunch 

and  another  Invitation 181 

CHAPTER  XXVUL— Major  Pagebrook  asserts  himself :188 

CHAPTER  XXIX. — Mr.  Barksdale,  the  Younger,  Goes  upon  a 

Journey 198 

CHAPTER  XXX.— The  younger  Mr.  Barksdale  Asks  to  be  put 

upon  His  Oath 204 

CHAPTER  XXXI.— Mr.  William  Barksdale  Explains 208 

CHAPTER  XXXII.— Which  Is  also  The  Last.. .  . .  .216 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

BY  M.   WOOLF. 

"  I've  got  Ton  Now." Frontispiece. 

Mr.  "Robert  Pagebrook  was  "  Blue." 13 

"  I  fall  at  once  into  a  Chronic  State  of  Washing  up  Things." 57 

"Foggy." 73 

Cousin  Sarah  Ann 87 

The  Kivulets  of  Blue  Blood 98 

Miss  Sudie  declares  herself  "  so  glad." ; . .  .116 

"  Let  him  Serve  it  at  once,  then." 156 

"  Very  well,  then." 194 

"I'm  as  Proud  and  as  Glad  as  a  Boy  with  Red  Morocco  Tops  to  his 
Boots." 218 


A  MAN  OF  HONOR. 


CHAPTEE   I. 
Mr.  PagebrooTc  gets  up  and  calls  an  Ancient  Lawgiver. 

ME.  EOBEET  PAGEBEOOK  was  "blue."  There 
was  no  denying  the  fact,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  admitted  it  as  he  lay  abed  one  September 
morning  with  his  hands  locked  over  the  top  of  his  head, 
while  his  shapely  and  muscular  body  was  stretched  at 
lazy  length  under  a  scanty  covering  of  sheet.  He  was 
snappish  too,  as  his  faithful  serving  man  had  discovered 
upon  knocking  half  an  hour  ago  for  entrance,  and 
receiving  a  rather  pointed  and  wholly  unreasonable 
injunction  to  "go  about  his  business,"  his  sole  business 
lying  just  then  within  the  precincts  of  Mr.  Eobert  Page- 
brook's  room,  to  which  he  was  thus  denied  admittance. 
The  old  servant  had  obeyed  to  the  best  of  his  ability, 
going  not  about  his  business  but  away  from  it,  wonder- 
11 


12  A   2IAN   OE   HONOR. 

ing  meanwnile  what  had  come  over  the  young  gentle 
man,  whom  he  had  never  found  moody  before. 

It  was  clear  that  Mr.  Eobert  Pagebrook's  reflections 
were  anything  but  pleasant  as  he  lay  there  thinking, 
thinking,  thinking — resolving  not  to  think  and  straight 
way  thinking  again  harder  than  ever.  His  disturbance 
was  due  to  a  combination  of  causes.  His  muddy  boots 
were  in  full  view  for  one  thing,  and  he  was  painfully  con 
scious  that  they  were  not  likely  to  get  themselves  blacked 
now  that  he  had  driven  old  Moses  away.  This  reminded 
him  that  he  had  showed  temper  when  Moses's  meek  knock 
had  disturbed  him,  and  to  show  temper  without  proper 
cause  he  deemed  a  weakness.  Weaknesses  were  his  pet 
aversion.  Weakness  found  little  toleration  with  him, 
particularly  when  the  weakness  showed  itself  in  his  own 
person,  out  of  which  he  had  been  all  his  life  chastising 
such  infirmities.  His  petulance  with  Moses,  therefore, 
contributed  to  his  annoyance,  becoming  an  additional 
cause  of  that  from  which  it  came  as  an  effect. 

Our  young  gentleman  acknowledged,  as  I  have  already 
said,  that  he  was  out  of  spirits,  and  in  the  very  act  of 
acknowledging  it  he  contemned  himself  because  of  it. 
His  sturdy  manhood  rebelled  against  its  own  weakness, 
and  mocked  at  it,  which  certainly  was  not  a  very  good 
way  to  cure  it.  He  denied  that  there  was  any  good 
excuse  for  his  depression,  and  scourged  himself,  mentally, 
for  giving  way  to  it,  a  process  which  naturally  enough 
made  him  give  way  to  it  all  the  more.  It  depressed  him 
to  know  that  he  was  weak  enough  to  be  depressed.  To 
my  thinking  he  did  himself  very  great  injustice.  He 


A  MAK   OF   HONOR.  15 

was,  in  fact,  very  unreasonable  with  himself,  and  deserv 
ed  to  suffer  the  consequences.  I  say  this  frankly,  being 
the  chronicler  of  this  young  man's  doings  and  not  his 
apologist  by  any  means.  He  certainly  had  good  reason 
to  be  gloomy,  inasmuch  as  he  had  two  rather  trouble 
some  things  on  his  hands,  namely,  a  young  man  without 
a  situation  and  a  disappointment  in  love,  or  fancy,  which 
is  often  mistaken  for  love.  A  circumstance  which  made 
the  matter  worse  was  that  the  young  man  without  a 
situation  for  whose  future  Mr.  Robert  Pagebrook  had  to 
provide  was  Mr.  Eobert  Pagebrook  himself.  This  alone 
would  not  have  troubled  him  greatly  if  it  had  not  been 
for  his  other  trouble  ;  for  the  great  hulking  fellow  who 
lay  there  with  his  hands  clasped  over  his  head  "cogitat 
ing,"  as  he  would  have  phrased  it,  had  too  much  physical 
force,  too  much  of  good  health  and  consequent  animal 
spirits,  to  distrust  either  the  future  or  his  own  ability  to 
cope  with  whatever  difficulties  it  might  bring  with  it. 
To  men  with  broad  chests  and  great  brawny  legs  and  arms 
like  his  the  future  has  a  very  promising  way  of  present 
ing  itself.  Besides,  our  young  man  knew  himself  well 
furnished  for  a  fight  with  the  world.  He  knew  very  well 
how  to  take  care  of  himself.  He  had  done  farm  labor 
as  a  boy  during  the  long  summer  vacations,  a  task  set 
him  by  his  Virginian  father,  who  had  carried  a  brilliant 
intellect  in  a  frail  body  to  a  western  state,  where  he  had 
married  and  died,  leaving  his  widow  this  one  son,  for 
whom  in  his  own  weakness  he  desired  nothing  so  much 
as  physical  strength  and  bodily  health.  The  boy  had 
grown  into  a  sturdy  youth  when  the  mother  died,  leaving 


16  A   MAIN"   OF   HON011. 

him  with  little  in  the  way  of  earthly  possessions  except 
well-knit  limbs,  a  clear,  strong,  active  mind,  and  an 
independent,  self-reliant  spirit.  With  these  he  had 
managed  to  work  his  way  through  college,  turning  his 
hand  to  anything  which  would  help  to  provide  him  with 
the  necessary  means — keeping  books,  "  coaching  "  other 
students,  canvassing  for  various  things,  and  doing  work 
of  other  sorts,  caring  little  whether  it  was  dignified  or 
undignified  provided  it  was  honest  and  promised  the 
desired  pecuniary  return.  After  graduation  he  had 
accepted  a  tutorship  in  the  college  wherein  he  had  stud 
ied — a  position  which  he  had  resigned  (about  a  year 
before  the  time  at  which  we  find  him  in  a  fit  of  the 
blues)  to  take  upon  himself  the  duties  of  "  Professor  of 
English  Language  and  Literature,  and  Adjunct  Profes 
sor  of  Mathematics,"  in  a  little  collegiate  institute  with 
big  pretensions  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Philadelphia. 
In  short,  he  had  been  knocked  about  in  the  world  until 
he  had  acquired  considerable  confidence  in  his  ability  to 
earn  a  living  at  almost  anything  he  might  undertake. 

Under  the  circumstances,  therefore,  it  is  not  probable 
that  this  energetic  and  self-confident  young  gentleman 
would  have  suffered  the  loss  of  his  professorship  to  annoy 
him  very  seriously  if  it  had  not  been  accompanied  by  the 
other  trouble  mentioned.  Indeed,  the  two  had  come  so 
closely  together,  and  were  so  intimately  connected  in 
other  ways,  that  Mr.  Eobert  Pagebrook  was  inclined  to 
wonder,  as  he  lay  there  in  bed,  whether  there  might  not 
exist  between  them  somewhere  the  relation  of  cause  and 
effect.  Whether  there  really  was  any  other  than  an 


OF   HOXOIi.  17 

accidental  blending  of  tlie  two  events  I  am  sure  I  do  not 
know ;  and  the  reader  is  at  liberty,  after  hearing  the 
brief  story  of  their  happening,  to  take  either  side  he 
prefers  of  the  question  raised  in  Mr.  Kob's  mind.  For 
myself,  I  find  it  impossible  to  determine  the  point.  But 
here  is  the  story,  as  young  Pagebrook  turned  it  over  and 
over  in  his  mind  in  spite  of  himself. 

President  Currier,  of  the  collegiate  institute,  had  a 
daughter,  Miss  Nellie,  who  wanted  to  study  Latin  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world.  President  Currier 
particularly  disliked  conjugations  and  parsings  and  every 
thing  else  pertaining  to  the  study  of  language  ;  and  so  it 
happened  that  as  Miss  Nellie  was  quite  a  good-looking 
and  agreeable  damsel,  our  young  friend  Pagebrook 
volunteered  to  give  her  the  coveted  instruction  in  her 
favorite  study  in  the  shape  of  afternoon  lessons.  The 
tutor  soon  discovered  that  his  pupil's  earnest  wish  to 
learn  Latin  had  been  based — as  such  desires  frequently 
are  in  the  case  of  young  women — upon  an  entire  misap 
prehension  of  the  nature  and  difficulty  of  the  study.  In 
fact,  Miss  Nellie's  clearest  idea  upon  the  subject  of  Latin 
before  beginning  it  was  that  "it  must  be  so  nice  !"  Her 
progress,  therefore,  after  the  first  week  or  two,  was 
certainly  not  remarkable  for  its  rapidity  ;  but  the  tutor 
persisted.  After  awhile  the  young  lady  said  "Latin 
wasn't  nice  at  all,"  a  remark  which  she  made  haste  to 
qualify  by  assuring  her  teacher  that  "it's  nice  to  take 
lessons  in  it,  though."  Finally  Miss  Nellie  ceased  to 
make  any  pretense  of  learning  the  lessons,  but  somehow 
the  afternoon  seances  over  the  grammar  were  continued, 


18  A   MAN    OF   HONOR. 

though  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  talk  was  not  largely 
of  vorbs. 

By  the  time  commencement  day  came  the  occasional 
presence  of  Miss  Nellie  had  become  a  sort  of  necessity  in 
the  young  professor's  daily  existence,  and  the  desire  to  be 
with  her  led  him  to  spend  the  summer  at  Cape  May, 
whither  her  father  annually  took  her  for  the  season.  Now 
Cape  May  is  an  expensive  place,  as  watering  places  usu 
ally  are,  and  so  Mr.  Eobert  Pagebrook's  stay  of  a  little 
over  two  months  there  made  a  serious  reduction  in  his 
reserve  fund,  which  was  at  best  a  very  limited  one.  Be 
fore  going  to  Cape  May  he  had  concluded  that  he  was  in 
love  with  Miss  Nellie,  and  had  informed  her  of  the  fact. 
She  had  expressed,  by  manner  rather  than  by  spoken 
word,  a  reasonable  degree  of  pleasure  in  the  knowledge 
of  this  fact ;  but  when  pressed  for  a  reply  to  the  young 
gentleman's  impetuous  questionings,  she  had  prettily 
avoided  committing  herself  beyond  recall.  She  told  him 
she  might  possibly  come  to  love  him  a  little  after  awhile, 
in  a  pretty  little  maidenly  way,  which  satisfied  him  that 
she  loved  him  a  good  deal  already.  She  said  she  "  didn't 
know"  with  a  tone  and  manner  which  convinced  him 
that  she  did  know ;  and  so  the  Cape  May  season  passed 
off  very  pleasantly,  with  just  enough  of  uncertainty  about 
the  position  of  affairs  to  keep  up  an  interest  in  them. 

As  the  season  drew  near  its  close,  however,  Miss  Nellie 
suddenly  informed  her  lover  one  evening  that  her  dear 
father  had  "plans"  for  her,  and  that  of  course  they  had 
both  been  amusing  themselves  merely  ;  and  she  said  this 
in  so  innocent  and  so  sincere  a  way  that  for  the  moment 


OF   HOXOE.  19 

her  stunned  admirer  believed  it  as  lie  retired  to  his  room 
with  an  unusual  ache  in  his  heart.  When  the  young  man 
sat  down  alone,  however,  and  began  meditating  upon  the 
events  of  the  past  summer,  he  was  unreasonable  enough 
to  accuse  the  innocent  little  maiden  of  very  naughty 
trifling,  and  even  to  think  her  wanting  in  honesty  and 
sincerity.  As  he  sat  there  brooding  over  the  matter,  and 
half  hoping  that  Miss  Nellie  was  only  trying  him  for  the 
purpose  of  testing  the  depth  of  his  affection,  a  servant 
brought  him  a  note,  which  he  opened  and  read.  It  was  a 
very  formal  affair,  as  the  reader  will  see  upon  running  his 
eye  over  the  following  copy  : 

< '  CAPE  MAY,  Sept.  10th,  18—. 

Dear  Sir: — It  becomes  my  duty  to  inform  you  that 
the  authorities  controlling  the  collegiate  institute's  affairs, 
having  found  it  necessary  to  retrench  its  expenses  some 
what,  have  determined  to  dispense  altogether  with  the 
adjunct  professorship  of  Mathematics,  and  to  distribute 
the  duties  appertaining  to  the  chair  of  English  Language 
and  Literature  among  the  other  members  of  the  faculty. 
In  consequence  of  these  changes  we  shall  hereafter  be  de 
prived  of  your  valuable  assistance  in  the  collegiate  insti 
tute.  There  is  yet  due  you  three  hundred  dollars  ($300) 
upon  your  salary  for  the  late  collegiate  year,  and  I  great 
ly  regret  that  the  treasurer  informs  me  of  a  present  lack 
of  funds  with  which  to  discharge  this  obligation.  I  per 
sonally  promise  you,  however,  that  the  amount  shall  be 
remitted  to  whatever  address  you  may  give  me,  on  or  be 
fore  the  fifteenth  day  of  November  next.  I  send  this  by 


20  A   MAtf   OF  HOKOR. 

a  messenger  just  as  I  am  upon  the  point  of  leaving  Cape 
May  for  a  brief  trip  to  other  parts  of  the  country.  I  re 
main,  sir,  with  the  utmost  respect, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

DAVID  CURRIER, 

President,  etc. 
To  Professor  Robert  Pagebrook." 

This  letter  had  come  to  Mr.  Robert  very  unexpectedly, 
and  its  immediate  consequence  had  been  to  send  him 
hastily  back  to  his  city  lodgings.  He  had  arrived  late  at 
night,  and  finding  no  matches  in  his  room,  which  was 
situated  in  a  business  building  where  his  neighbors  were 
unknown  to  him,  he  had  been  compelled  to  go  to  bed  in 
the  dark,  without  the  possibility  of  ascertaining  whether 
or  not  there  were  any  letters  awaiting  him  on  his  table. 

Our  young  gentleman  was  not,  ordinarily,  of  an  irri 
table  disposition,  and  trifling  things  rarely  ever  disturbed 
his  equanimity,  but  he  was  forced  to  admit,  as  he  lay 
there  in  bed,  that  he  had  been  a  very  unreasonable  young 
gentleman  on  several  recent  occasions,  and  naturally 
enough  he  began  to  catalogue  his  sins  of  this  sort. 
Among  other  things  he  remembered  that  he  had  worked 
himself  into  a  temper  over  the  emptiness  of  the  match- 
safe  ;  and  this  reminded  him  that  he  had  not  even  yet 
looked  to  see  if  there  were  any  letters  on  the  table  at  his 
elbow,  much  as  he  had  the  night  previously  bewailed  the 
impossibility  of  doing  so  at  once.  Somehow  this  matter 
of  his  correspondence  did  not  seem  half  so  imperative  in 
its  demands  upon  his  attention  now  that  he  could  read 


A   MAN1   OF   HO^OR.  21 

his  letters  at  once  as  it  had  seemed  the  night  before  when 
he  could  not  read  them  at  all.  He  stretched  out  his  hand 
rather  languidly,  therefore,  and  taking  up  the  half  dozen 
letters  which  lay  on  the  table,  began  to  turn  them  over, 
examining  the  superscriptions  with  small  show  of  inter 
est.  Breaking  one  open  he  muttered,  "There's  another 
forty  dollars'  worth  of  folly.  I  did  not  need  that  coat, 
but  ordered  it  expressly  for  Cape  May.  The  bill  must  be 
paid,  of  course,  and  here  I  am,  out  of  work,  with  no 
prospects,  and  about  five  hundred  dollars  less  money  in 
bank  than  I  ought  to  have.  !" 

I  am  really  afraid  he  closed  that  sentence  with  an  eja 
culation.  I  have  set  down  an  exclamation  point  to  cover 
the  possibility  of  such  a  thing. 

He  went  on  with  his  letters.  Presently  he  opened  the 
last  but  one,  and  immediately  proceeded  to  open  his  eyes 
rather  wider  than  usual.  Jumping  out  of  bed  he  thrust 
his  head  out  of  the  door  and  called 

"Moses!" 

"Moses!!" 

«  MOSES!!!" 

"MOSES!!!!" 


A   MAJtf   OF   HOK01U 


CHAPTER    II. 

Mr.  Pagebrook  is  invited  to  Breakfast. 

AFTER  he  had  waked  up  whatever  echoes  there  were 
in  the  building  by  his  crescendo  calling  for  Moses, 
besides  spoiling  the  temper  of  the  night  editor  who  was 
just  then  in  the  midst  of  his  first  slumber  in  the  room 
opposite,  Mr.  Rob  remembered  that  the  old  colored 
janitor,  who  owned  the  biblical  name,  and  who  for  a 
trifling  consideration  ministered  in  the  capacity  of  ser 
vant  to  the  personal  comfort  of  the  occupants  of  the 
rooms  under  his  charge,  was  never  known  to  answer  a 
call.  He  was  sure  to  be  within  hearing,  but  would  main 
tain  a  profound  silence  until  he  had  disposed  of  whatever 
matter  he  might  happen  to  have  in  hand  at  the  moment, 
after  which  he  would  come  to  the  caller  in  the  sedate  and 
dignified  way  proper  to  a  person  of  his  importance..  Re 
membering  this,  and  hearing  some  ominous  mutterings 
from  the  night  editor's  room,  our  young  gentleman  with 
drew  his  head  from  the  corridor,  put  on  his  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers,  and  sat  down  to  await  the  leisurely 
coming  of  the  serving  man. 

Taking  up  the  note  again  he  reread  it,  although  he 


A  MAST  OP  HONOR.  23 

knew  perfectly  well  everything  in  it,  and  began  speculat 
ing  upon  what  it  could  possibly  mean,  knowing  all  the 
while  that  no  amount  of  speculation  could  throw  the 
slightest  ray  of  light  on  the  subject  in  the  absence  of 
further  information.  He  read  it  aloud,  just  as  you  or  I 
would  have  done,  when  there  was  nobody  by  to  listen. 
It  was  as  brief  as  a  telegram,  and  merely  said  :  "  Will 
you  please  inform  me  at  once  whether  we  may  count 
upon  your  acceptance  of  the  position  offered  you  ? "  It 
was  signed  with  an  unfamiliar  name,  to  which  was  ap 
pended  the  abbreviated  word  (( Pres't." 

"  I  shall  certainly  be  very  happy  to  inform  the  gentle 
man,"  thought  the  perplexed  young  man,  "whether  he 
may  or  may  not  (by  the  way  he  very  improperly  omits  the 
alternative  'or  not'  after  his  ' whether'),  whether  he 
may  or  may  not  ( count  upon '  (I  must  look  up  that  ex 
pression  and  see  if  there  is  good  authority  for  its  use), 
whether  he  may  or  may  not  count  upon  my  acceptance 
of  the  position  offered  me,  just  as  soon  as  I  can  inform 
myself  upon  the  matter.  As  I  have  not  at  present  the 
slightest  idea  of  what  the  l position'  is,  it  is  somewhat 
difficult  for  me  to  make  up  my  mind  concerning  it. 
However,  as  I  am  without  employment  and  uncomforta 
bly  short  of  money,  there  seems  to  be  every  probability 
that  my  unknown  correspondent's  proposition,  whatever 
it  is,  will  be  favorably  considered.  Moses  will  come  after 
awhile,  I  suppose,  and  he  probably  has  the  other  letter 
caged  as  a  '  vallable. '  Let  me  see  what  wo  have  here 
from  William." 

With  this  our  young  gentleman  opened  his  only  re- 


24  A  MAN   OF  HONOK. 

maining  letter,  which  he  had  already  discovered  by  a 
glance  at  the  postmark  was  from  a  Virginian  cousin.  It 
was  a  mere  note,  in  which  his  cousin  wrote  : 

(e  A  little  matter  of  business  takes  me  to  Philadelphia 
next  week.  Shall  be  at  Girard  Ho.,  Thrsd  morn'g. 
Meet  me  there  at  breakfast,  but  don't  come  too  early. 
Train  won't  get  in  till  three,  so  I'll  sleep  a  little  late. 
Sh'd  you  wake  me  too  early,  I'll  be  as  cross  as  a  $20  bank 
note,  and  make  a  bad  impression  on  you. " 

An  amused  smile  played  over  Mr.  Eobert's  face  as  he 
read  this  note  over  and  over.  What  he  was  thinking  I 
do  not  know.  Aloud  he  said  : 

""What  a  passion  my  cousin  has  for  abbreviations! 
One  would  think  he  had  a  grudge  against  words  from  the 
way  in  which  he  cuts  them  up.  And  what  a  figure  of 
speech  that  is  !  ( As  cross  as  a  twenty-dollar  bank-note  ! ' 
Let  me  see.  I  may  safely  assume  that  the  letters  ( T  h  r  s' 
with  an  elevated  fd'  mean  Thursday,  and  as  this  is 
Thursday,  and  as  the  letter  was  written  last  week,  and  as 
my  watch  tells  me  it  is  now  ten  o'clock,  and  as  my  boots 
are  still  unblacked,  and  as  Moses  has  not  yet  made  his 
appearance,  it  seems  altogether  probable  that  my  cousin's 
breakfast  will  be  postponed  until  the  middle  of  the  day 
if  he  waits  for  me  to  help  him  eat  it.  I  am  afraid  he 
will  be  as  cross  as  half  a  dozen  bank  notes  of  the  largest 
denomination  issued  when  we  meet. " 

"Did  you  call,  sah  ?"  asked  Moses,  coming  very  delib 
erately  into  the  room. 

"I  am  under  the  impression  that  I  did,  though  it  re 
quires  an  extraordinary  exercise  of  the  memory  to  recall 


A   MAJIST   OF  IIOXOR.  25 

an  event  which  happened  so  long  ago.  Have  you  any 
Wallabies' for  me?" 

Moses  thought  he  had.  This  was  as  near  an  approach 
to  anything  like  a  positive  statement  as  Moses  ever  made. 
He  would  go  to  his  room  and  ascertain.  Among  many 
other  evidences  of  unusual  wisdom  on  the  part  of  the 
old  negro  was  this,  that  he  believed  himself  fully  capa 
ble  of  recognizing  a  valuable  letter  whenever  he  saw  it  ; 
and  it  was  one  of  his  self-imposed  duties,  whenever  the 
post  brought  letters  for  any  absent  member  of  his  con 
stituency,  to  look  them  over  and  sequestrate  all  the  "  val- 
lables  "  until  the  return  of  the  owner,  so  that  they  might 
be  delivered  with  his  own  hand.  Eeturning  now  he 
brought  two  "vallables"  for  Mr.  Pagebrook.  One  of 
them  was  a  printed  circular,  but  the  other  proved  to  be 
the  desired  letter,  which  was  a  formal  tender  of  a  pro 
fessorship  in  a  New  England  college,  with  an  entirely 
satisfactory  salary  attached.  Accompanying  the  official 
notice  of  election  was  a  note  informing  him  that  his  du 
ties,  in  the  event  of  acceptance,  would  not  begin  until  the 
first  of  January,  the  engagement  of  the  retiring  professor 
terminating  at  that  time. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  news  our  young  friend's 
face  brightened  quite  as  perceptibly  as  his  boots  did  in 
the  hands  of  the  old  servitor.  He  wrote  his  letter  of  ac 
ceptance  at  once,  and  then  proceeded  to  dress  for  break 
fast  at  the^Girard  House,  whither  he  walked  with  as  light 
a  step  and  as  cheerful  a  bearing  as  if  he  had  not  been  a 
sadly  disappointed  lover  at  all. 


26  A   MAN   OF  HONOK. 


CHAPTEE     III. 

Mr.  Pagebrook  Eats  his  Breakfast. 

ROBERT  PAGEBROOK  had  never  seen  his  cousin, 
and  yet  they  were  not  altogether  strangers  to  each 
other.  Robert's  father  and  William  Barksdale's  mother 
were  brother  and  sister,  and  Shirley,  the  old  Virginian 
homestead,  which  had  been  in  the  family  for  nearly  two 
centuries,  had  passed  to  young  Barksdale's  mother  by  the 
voluntary  act  of  Robert's  father  when,  upon  coming  of 
age,  he  had  gone  west  to  try  his  fortune  in  a  busier  world 
than  that  of  the  Old  Dominion.  The  two  boys,  William 
and  Robert,  had  corresponded  quite  regularly  in  boyhood 
and  quite  irregularly  after  they  grew  up,  and  so  they 
knew  each  other  pretty  well,  though,  as  I  have  said,  they 
had  never  met. 

"I  am  glad,  very  glad  to  see  you,  William,"  said 
Robert  as  he  grasped  his  cousin's  hand. 

"  Now  don't,  I  beg  of  you.  Call  me  Billy,  or  Will,  or 
anything  else  you  choose,  old  fellow,  but  don't  call  me 
William,  whatever  you  do.  Nobody  ever  did  but  father, 
and  he  never  did  except  of  mornings  when  I  wouldn't 
get  up.  Then  he'd  sing  out  ( Will-yum '  with  a  sort  of  a 


A  MAN   OF  HONOR.  27 

horsewhip  snap  at  the  end  of  it.  'William'  always 
reminds  me  of  disturbed  slumbers.  Call  me  Billy,  and 
I'll  call  you  Bob.  I'll  do  that  anyhow,  so  you  might  as 
well  fall  into  familiar  ways.  But  come,  tell  me  how  you 
are  and  all  about  yourself.  You  haven't  written  to  me 
since  the  flood ;  forgot  to  receive  my  last  letter  I 
suppose." 

' '  Probably  I  did.  I  have  been  forgetting  a  good  many 
things.  But  I  hope  I  have  not  kept  you  too  long  from 
ybur  breakfast,  and  especially  that  I  have  not  made  you 
( as  cross  as  a  twenty  dollar  bank-note. '  Pray  tell  me 
what  you  meant  by  that  figure  of  speech,  will  you  not  ? 
I  am  curious  to  know  where  you  got  it  and  why." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Billy.  "You'll  have  a  lively 
time  of  it  if  you  mean  to  unravel  all  my  metaphors.  Let 
me  see.  I  must  have  referred  to  the  big  X's  they  print 
on  the  bank  bills,  or  something  of  that  sort.  But  let's  go 
to  breakfast  at  once.  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  village  editor. 
We  can  talk  over  a  beefsteak,  or  you  can  at  least.  I 
mean  to  be  as  still  as  a  mill-pond  of  a  cloudy  night  while 
you  tell  me  all  about  yourself." 

And  over  their  breakfast  they  talked.  But  in  telling 
his  story,  while  he  remembered  to  mention  all  the  details 
of  his  situation  losing  and  his  situation  getting,  Mr. 
Robert  somehow  forgot  to  say  anything  about  his  other 
disappointment.  He  soon  learned  to  know  and  to  like  his 
cousin,  and,  which  was  more  to  the  purpose,  he  began  to 
enjoy  him  right  heartily,  in  his  own  way,  bantering  him 
on  his  queer  uses  of  English,  half  in  sport,  half  in 
earnest,  until  the  Virginian  declared  that  they  had 


28  A   HAK   OF   HONOR. 

grown  as  familiar  with  each  other  "as  a  pair  of  Irishmen 
at  a  wake." 

"  I  suppose  you're  off  at  once  for  your  new  place,  a'n't 
you  ?  This  is  September/'  said  Billy  after  his  cousin  had 
finished  so  much  of  his  story  as  he  cared  to  reveal. 

"  No,"  said  Robert.  "  My  duties  will  not  begin  until 
January,  and  meantime  I  must  go  off  011  a  tramp  some 
where  to  get  my  muscles,  physical  and  financial,  up 
again.  To  tell  the  truth  I  have  been  dawdling  at  Cape 
May  this  summer  instead  of  going  off  to  the  mountain* 
or  the  prairies,  as  I  usually  do,  for  a  healthful  and 
economical  foot  journey,  and  the  result  is  that  my  legs 
and  arms  are  sadly  run  down.  I  have  been  spending  too 
much  money  too,  and  so  cannot  afford  to  stay  around 
Philadelphia  until  January.  I  think  I  must  go  off  to 
some  of  the  mountain  counties,  where  the  people  think 
five  dollars  a  fortune  and  call  anything  less  than  a  preci 
pice  rising  ground. '? 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you  won't,"  said  the  Virginian ; 
" I've  been  inviting  you  to  the  ' home  of  your  fathers' 
ever  since  I  was  born,  and  this  is  the  very  first  time  I 
ever  got  you  to  own  up  to  a  scrap  of  leisure  as  big  as 
your  thumb  nail.  I've  got  you  now  with  nothing  to  do 
and  nowhere  to  go,  and  I  mean  to  take  you  with  me  this 
very  evening  to  Virginia.  We'll  leave  on  the  eleven 
o'clock  train  to-night,  get  to  Eichmond  to-morrow  at 
two,  and  go  up  home  next  morning  in  time  for  snack." 

"But,  my  dear  Billy " 

"  But,  my  dear  Bob,  I  won't  hear  a  word,  and  I  won't 
take  no  for  an  answer.  That's  poz  roz  and  the  king's 


OF  HO:NTOR.  29 


English.  Fm  managing  tliis  little  job.  You  can  give 
up  your  rooms  to-day,  sell  out  your  plunder,  and  stop 
expenses.  Then  you  needn't  open  your  pocket-book 
again  for  so  long  that  you'll  forget  how  it  looks  inside. 
Put  a  few  ninepences  into  your  breeches  pocket  to  throw 
at  darkeys  when  they  hold  your  horse,  and  the  thing's 
done.  And  won't  we  wake  up  old  Shirley  ?  I  tell  you 
it's  the  delightfulest  two  hundred  year  old  establishment 
you  ever  saw  or  didn't  see.  As  the  Irish  attorney  said  of 
his  ancestral  home  :  e  there  isn't  a  table  in  the  house  that 
hasn't  had  jigs  danced  upon  it,  and  there's  not  a  chair 
that  you  can't  throw  at  a  friend's  head  without  the 
slightest  fear  of  breaking  it.'  When  we  get  there  we'll 
have  as  much  fun  as  a  pack  of  hounds  on  a  fresh  trail." 

"Upon  my  word,  Billy,"  said  the  professor  cousin, 
"your  metaphors  have  the  merits  of  freshness  and 
originality,  at  the  least,  though  now  and  then,  as  in 
the  present  instance,  they  are  certainly  not  very  compli 
mentary.  However,  it  just  occurs  to  me  that  I  have  been 
wanting  to  go  to  Shirley  (  ever  since  I  was  born,'  if  you 
will  allow  me  to  borrow  one  of  your  forcible  phrases,  and 
this  really  does  seem  to  be  a  peculiarly  good  opportunity 
to  do  so.  I  am  a  good  deal  interested  in  dialects  and 
provincialisms,  so  it  would  be  worth  my  while  to  visit 
you,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  my  stay  at  Shirley 
will  give  me  an  excellent  opportunity  to  study  some  of 
your  own  expressions.  '  Poz  roz,'  now,  is  entirely  new  to 
me,  and  I  might  make  something  out  of  it  in  a  philologi 
cal  way." 

"Upon  my  word"  said   Mr.   Billy,   "that's  a  polite 


30  A   MAtf    OF   HONOR. 

speech.  If  you'll  only  say  you'll  go,  though,  I  don't 
care  the  value  of  a  herring's  left  fore  foot  what  use  you 
make  of  me.  I'm  yours  to  command  and  ready  for  any 
sport  that  suits  you,  unless  you  take  a  notion  to  throw 
rocks  at  me." 

"  Pray  tell  me,  Billy,  do  Virginians  ever  throw  rocks  ? 
I  am  interested  in  muscle,  and  should  greatly  like  to  see 
some  one  ahle  to  throw  rocks.  I  have  paid  half  a  dollar 
many  a  time  to  see  a  man  lift  extraordinary  weights,  hut 
the  best  of  the  showmen  never  dream  of  handling  any 
thing  heavier  than  cannon-balls.  It  would  be  decidedly 
entertaining  to  see  a  man  throwing  rocks  and  things  of 
that  sort  about,  even  if  he  were  to  use  both  hands  in 
doing  it." 

" Nonsense,"  said  Billy;  "I'm  not  one  of  your 
studenis  getting  a  dictionary  lesson.  Waiter  ! " 

"  What  will  you  have,  sir  ?"  asked  the  waiter. 

"  Some  hot  biscuit,  please." 

"  They  a'n't  no  hot  biscuits,  sir." 

"Well  some  hot  rolls  then,  or  hot  bread  of  some  sort. 
Cold  bread  for  breakfast  is  an  abomination." 

"  They  a'n't  no  hot  bread  in  the  house,  sir.  We  never 
keep  none.  Hot  bread  a'n't  healthy,  sir. " 

"  You  impertinent " 

"My  dear  Billy,"  said  Mr.  Bob,  "pray  keep  your 
temper.  '  Impertinent '  is  not  the  word  you  wish  to  use. 
The  man  can  not  well  be  impertinent.  He  is  a  trifle 
impudent,  I  admit,  but  we  can  afford  to  overlook  the 
impudence  of  his  remark  for  the  sake  of  the  philological 
interest  it  has.  Waiter,  you  ought  to  know,  inasmuch  as 


OF  HOIs'OK.  31 


you  have  been  brought  up  in  a  land  of  free  schools,  that 
two  negatives,  in  English,  destroy  each  other,  and  are 
equivalent  to  an  affirmative  ;  but  the  matter  in  which  I 
am  most  interested  just  now  is  your  remark  that  hot 
bread  is  not  healthy.  Your  statement  is  perfectly  true, 
and  it  would  'have  been  equally  true  if  you  had  omitted 
the  qualifying  adjective  '  hot.  '  No  bread  can  be  '  healthy,' 
because  health  and  disease  are  not  attributes  or  conditions 
of  inanimate  things.  You  probably  meant,  however, 
that  hot  bread  is  not  wholesome,  a  point  on  which  my 
friend  here,  who  eats  hot  bread  every  day  of  his  life, 
would  naturally  take  issue  with  you.  Please  bring  us 
some  buttered  toast." 

The  waiter  went  away  bewildered  —  questioning  the 
sanity  of  Mr.  Bob  in  all  probability  ;  a  questioning  in 
which  Billy  was  half  inclined  to  join  him. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  Bob,  by  talking  in  that 
way  to  a  waiter  who  don't  know  the  meaning  of  one  word 
in  five  that  you  use  ?" 

"Well,  I  meant  for  one  thing  to  keep  you  from  losing 
your  temper  and  so  spoiling  your  digestion.  Human 
motives  are  complicated  affairs,  and  hence  I  am  by  no 
means  sure  that  I  can  further  unravel  my  purpose  in 
this  case." 

"Return  we  to  our  muttons,  then,"  said  Billy  ;  "I'll 
finish  the  business  that  brought  me  here,  which  is  only 
to  be  present  at  the  taking  of  a  short  deposition,  by  two 
or  three  o'clock.  While  I'm  at  it  you  can  get  your  traps 
together,  send  your  trunk  to  the  depot,  and  get  back 
here  to  dinner  by  four.  Then  we  must  get  through  the 


32  A   MAJS'   OE   HONOR. 

rest  of  the  time  the  best  way  we  can,  and  at  eleven  we'll 
be  off.  I'm  crazy  to  see  you  with  Phil  once." 

"Phil,  who  is  he?" 

"  Oh  !  Phil  is  a  character — a  colored  one.  I  want  to 
see  how  his  ' dialect'  will  affect  you.  I'm  half  afraid 
you'll  go  crazy,  though,  under  it. " 

"  Tell  me—" 

"No,  I  won't  describe  Phil,  because  I  can't,  and  no 
more  can  anybody  else.  Phil  must  be  seen  to  be  appre 
ciated.  But  come,  I'm  off  for  the  notary's,  and  you 
must  get  you  gone  too,  for  you  mustn't  be  late  at  dinner 
— that's  poz." 

With  this  the  two  young  men  separated,  the  Virginian 
lawyer  to  attend  to  the  taking  of  some  depositions,  and 
his  cousin  to  surrender  his  lodgings,  pack  his  trunk,  and 
make  such  other  arrangements  as  were  necessary  for 
his  journey. 

This  opportunity  to  visit  the  old  homestead  where  his 
father  had  passed  his  boyhood  was  peculiarly  welcome  to 
Mr.  Eobert  just  now.  There  had  always  been  to  him  a 
sort  of  glamour  about  the  names  Virginia  and  Shirley. 
His  father's  stories  about  his  own  childhood  had  made  a 
deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  the  boy,  and  to  him 
Shirley  was  a  palace  and  Virginia  a  fairy  land.  When 
ever,  in  childhood,  he  was  allowed  to  call  a  calf  or  a  pig 
his  own,  he  straightway  bestowed  upon  it  one  or  the 
other  of  the  charmed  names,  and  fancied  that  the  animal 
grew  stronger  and  more  beautiful  as  a  consequence.  He 
had  always  intended  to  go  to  Shirley,  but  had  never  done 
so  ;  just  as  you  and  I,  reader,  have  always  meant  to  do 


A   MAN    OF   HONOR.  33 

several  scores  of  things  that  we  have  never  done,  though 
we  can  hardly  say  why.  Just  now,  however,  Mr.  Billy's 
plan  for  his  cousin  was  more  than  ever  agreeable  to  Mr. 
Eobert  for  various  present  and  unusual  reasons.  He 
knew  next  to  nobody  in  or  about  Philadelphia  outside  the 
precincts  of  the  collegiate  institute,  and  to  hunt  up 
acquaintances  inside  that  institution  was  naturally 
enough  not  exactly  to  his  taste.  He  had  several  months 
of  time  to  dispose  of  in  some  way,  and  until  Billy  sug 
gested  the  visit  to  Virginia,  the  best  he  had  been  able  to 
do  in  the  way  of  devising  a  time-killer  was  to  plan  a  soli 
tary  wandering  among  the  mountainous  districts  of 
Pennsylvania.  Ordinarily  he  would  have  enjoyed  such  a 
journey  very  much,  but  just  now  he  knew  that  Mr. 
Eobert  Pagebrook  could  hardly  find  a  less  agreeable 
companion  than  Mr.  Eobert  Pagebrook  himself.  That 
little  affair  with  Miss  Nellie  Currier  kept  coming  up  in 
his  memory,  and  if  the  reader  be  a  man  it  is  altogether 
probable  that  he  knows  precisely  how  the  memory  of  that 
story  affected  our  young  gentleman.  He  wanted  com 
pany,  and  he  wanted  change,  and  he  wanted  out-door 
exercise,  and  where  could  he  find  all  these  quite  so  abun 
dant  as  at  an  old  Virginian  country  house  ?  His  love  for 
Miss  Nellie,  he  was  sure,  was  a  very  genuine  one  ;  but  he 
was  equally  sure  that  it  was  hopeless.  Indeed,  now  that 
he  knew  the  selfish  insincerity  of  the  damsel  he  did  not 
even  wish  that  his  suit  had  prospered.  This,  at  any  rate, 
is  what  he  thought,  as  you  did,  my  dear  sir,  when  you 
first  learned  what  the  word  "Another"  means  when 
printed  with  a  big  A  ;  and,  thinking  this,  he  felt  that 


34  A  MA^"   OF   HONOR. 

the  first  thing  to  be  done  in  the  matter  was  to  forget 
Miss  Nellie  and  his  love  for  her  as  speedily  as  possible. 
How  far  he  succeeded  in  doing  this  we  shall  probably  see 
in  the  sequel.  At  present  we  have  to  do  with  the  attempt 
only.  New  scenes  and  new  people,  Mr.  Pagebrook 
thought,  would  greatly  aid  him  in  his  purpose,  and  so 
the  trip  to  Virginia  seemed  peculiarly  fitting.  It  thus 
comes  about  that  the  scene  of  this  young  man's  story 
suddenly  shifts  from  Philadelphia  to  a  Virginian  country 
house,  in  spite  of  all  I  can  do  to  preserve  the  dramatic 
unity  of  place.  Ah  !  if  I  were  making  this  story  now,  I 
could  confine  it  to  a  single  room,  compress  its  action  into 
a  single  day,  and  do  other  dramatic  and  highly  proper 
things ;  but  as  Mr.  Eobert  Pagebrook  and  his  friends 
were  not  stage  people,  and,  moreover,  as  they  were  not 
aware  that  their  goings  and  comings  would  ever  weave 
themselves  into  the  woof  of  a  story  at  all,  they  utterly 
failed  to  regulate  their  actions  in  accordance  with  critical 
rules,  and  went  roving  about  over  the  country  quite  in  a 
natural  way  and  without  the  slightest  regard  for  my  con 
venience. 


A   MAtf   OF   HOKOR.  35 


CHAPTER      IV. 

Mr.  Pagebrook  learns  something  about  the  Customs  of 
the  Country. 

WHEN  our  two  young  men  readied  the  station  at 
which  they  were  to  leave  the  cars,  they  found 
awaiting  them  there  the  lumbering  old  carriage  which 
had  been  a  part  of  the  Shirley  establishment  ever  since 
Mr.  Billy  could  remember.  This  vehicle  was  known  to 
everybody  in  the  neighborhood  as  the  Shirley  carriage, 
not  because  it  was  older  or  clumsier  or  uglier  than  its  fel 
lows,  for  indeed  it  was  not,  but  merely  because  every  car 
riage  in  a  Virginian  neighborhood  is  known  to  everybody 
quite  as  well  as  its  owner  is.  To  Mr.  Eobert  Pagebrook, 
however,  the  vehicle  presented  itself  as  an  antique  and  a 
curiosity.  Its  body  was  suspended  by  leathern  straps 
which  came  out  of  some  high  semicircular  springs  at  the 
back,  and  it  was  thus  raised  so  far  above  the  axles  that 
one  could  enter  it  only  by  mounting  quite  a  stairway  of 
steps,  which  unfolded  themselves  from  its  interior. 
Swinging  thus  by  its  leathern  straps,  the  great  heavy  car 
riage  body  really  seemed  to  have  no  support  at  all,  and 
Mr.  Robert  found  it  necessary  to  exercise  all  the  faith 
there  was  in  him  in  order  to  believe  that  to  get  inside  of 


36  A   MAJC   OF   HOKOR. 

the  vehicle  was  not  a  sure  and  speedy  way  of  securing 
two  or  three  broken  bones.  He  got  in,  however,  at  his 
cousin's  invitation,  and  soon  discovered  that  although  the 
motion  of  the  suspended  carriage  body  closely  resembled 
that  of  a  fore  and  aft  schooner  in  a  gale,  it  was  by  no 
means  unpleasant,  as  the  worst  that  the  roughest  road 
could  do  was  to  make  the  vibratory  motion  a  trine  more 
decided  than  usual  in  its  nature.  A  jolt  was  simply  im 
possible. 

As  soon  as  he  got  his  sea  legs  on  sufficiently  to  keep 
himself  tolerably  steady  011  his  seat,  Mr.  Rob  began  to 
look  at  the  country  or,  more  properly,  to  study  the  road 
side,  there  being  little  else  visible,  so  thickly  grew  the 
trees  and  underbrush  on  each  side. 

"  How  far  must  we  drive  before  reaching  Shirley  ?  "  he 
asked  after  awhile,  as  the  carriage  stopped  for  the  open 
ing  of  a  gate. 

"  About  four  miles  now,"  said  his  cousin.  "  It's  five 
miles,  or  nearly  that,  from  the  Court  House." 

"  The  court  house  ?    Where  is  that  ?  " 

"  0  the  village  where  we  left  the  train  !  That's  the 
Court  House." 

"  Ah  !  you  Virginians  call  a  village  a  court  house,  do 
you  ?" 

"  Certainly,  when  it's  the  county-seat  and  a'n't  much 
else.  Now  and  then  court  houses  put  on  airs  and  call 
themselves  names,  but  they  don't  often  make  much  of  it. 
There's  Powhatan  Court  House  now,  I  believe  it  tried  to 
get  itself  called  ( Scottsville,'  or  something  of  that  sort, 
but  nobody  knows  it  as  anything  but  Powhatan  Court 


A   MAX   OF   HONOR.  37 

House.  Our  county-seat  has  always  been  modest,  and  if 
it  has  any  name  I  never  heard  of  it." 

"  That's  one  interesting  custom  of  the  country,  at  any 
rate.  Pray  tell  me,  is  it  another  of  your  customs  to  dis 
pense  wholly  with  public  roads  ?  I  ask  for  information 
merely,  and  the  question  is  suggested  by  the  fact  that  we 
seem  to  have  driven  away  from  the  Court  House  by  the 
private  road  which  we  are  still  following." 

"  Why,  this  isn't  a  private  road.  It's  one  of  the  prin 
cipal  public  roads  of  the  county." 

"  How  about  these  gates  then  ?  "  asked  Eobert  as  the 
negro  boy  who  rode  behind  the  carriage  jumped  down  to 
open  another. 

"Well,  what  about  them  ?" 

"  Why,  I  never  saw  a  gate  across  a  public  thoroughfare 
before.  Do  you  really  permit  such  things  in  Virginia  ?" 

"  0  yes  !  certainly.  It  saves  a  great  deal  of  fencing, 
and  the  Court  never  refuses  permission  to  put  up  a  gate 
in  any  reasonable  place,  only  the  owner  is  bound  to  make 
it  easy  to  open  on  horseback — or,  as  you  would  put  it, 
'by  a  person  riding  on  horseback.'  You  see  I'm  growing 
circumspect  in  my  choice  of  words  since  I've  been  with 
you.  May  be  you'll  reform  us  all,  and  make  us  talk  tol 
erably  good  English  before  you  go  back.  If  you  do,  I'll 
give  you  some  <  testimonials '  to  your  worth  as  a  professor." 

"  But  about  those  gates,  Billy.  I  am  all  the  more  in 
terested  in  them  now  that  I  know  them  as  another  ( cus 
tom  of  the  country.'  How  do  their  owners  keep  them 
shut  ?  Don't  people  leave  them  open  pretty  often  ?  " 

"Never ;  a  Virginian  is  always  ( on  honor'  so  far  as  his 


38  A   MAN    OF   HONOR. 

neighbors  are  concerned,  and  the  man  who  would  leave  a 
neighbor's  gate  open  might  as  well  take  to  stealing  at 
once  for  all  the  difference  it  would  make  in  his  social 
standing." 

It  was  not  only  the  gates,  but  the  general  appearance 
of  the  road  as  well,  that  astonished  young  Pagebrook  :  a 
public  road,  consisting  of  a  single  carriage  track,  with  a 
grass  plat  on  each  side,  fringed  with  thick  undergrowth 
and  overhung  by  the  branches  of  great  trees,  was  to  him 
a  novelty,  and  a  very  pleasant  novelty  too,  in  which  he 
was  greatly  interested. 

"Who  lives  there?"  asked  Eobert,  as  a  large  house 
came  into  view. 

"That's  The  Oaks,  Cousin  Edwin's  place." 

"And  who  is  your  Cousin  Edwin  ?" 

"My  Cousin  Edwin?  He's  yours  too,  I  reckon. 
Cousin  Edwin  Pagebrook.  He  is  our  second  cousin  or, 
as  the  old  ladies  put  it,  first  cousin  once  removed." 

"Pray  tell  me  what  a  first  cousin  once  removed  is, 
will  you  not,  Billy  ?  I  am  wholly  ignorant  on  the  subject 
of  cousinhood  in  its  higher  branches,  and  as  I  understand 
that  a  good  deal  of  stress  is  laid  upon  relationships  of 
this  sort  in  Virginia,  I  should  like  to  inform  myself  in 
advance  if  possible. " 

"I  really  don't  know  whether  I  can  or  not.  Any  of 
the  old  ladies  will  lay  it  all  out  to  you,  illustrating  it 
with  their  keys  arranged  like  a  genealogical  tree.  I  don't 
know  much  about  it,  but  I  reckon  I  can  make  you  under 
stand  this  much,  as  I  have  Cousin  Edwin's, case  to  go  by. 
It's  a  'case  in  point'  as  we  lawyers  say.  Let's  see. 


A   MAN   OF  HOKOR.  39 

Cousin  Edwin's  grandfather  was  our  great  grandfather ; 
then  his  father  was  our  grandfather's  brother,  and  that 
makes  him  first  cousin  to  my  mother  and  your  father. 
Now  I  would  call  mother's  first  cousin  my  second  cousin, 
but  the  old  ladies,  who  pay  a  good  deal  of  attention  to 
these  matters,  say  not.  They  say  that  my  mother's  or 
my  father's  first  cousin  is  my  first  cousin  once  removed, 
and  his  children  are  my  second  cousins,  and  they  prove 
it  all,  too,  with  their  keys." 

"  Well  then,"  asked  Eobert,  "if  that  is  so,  what  is  the 
exact  relationship  between  Cousin  Edwin's  children  and 
my  father  or  your  mother  ?  " 

"0  don't!  You  bewilder  me.  I  told  you  I  didn't 
know  anything  about  it.  You  must  get  some  old  lady  to 
explain  it  with  her  keys,  and  when  she  gets  through  you 
won't  know  who  you  are,  to  save  you. " 

"That  is  encouraging,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Robert. 

"  0  it's  no  matter !  You're  safe  enough  in  calling 
everybody  around  here  '  cousin '  if  you're  sure  they  a'n't 
any  closer  kin.  The  fact  is,  all  the  best  families  here 
have  intermarried  so  often  that  the  relationships  are  all 
mixod  up,  and  we  always  claim  kin  when  there  is  any 
ghost  of  a  chance  for  it.  Besides,  the  Pagebrooks  are 
the  biggest  tadpoles  in  the  puddle  ;  and  so,  if  they  don't 
'  cousin '  all  their  kin-folks  people  think  they're  stuck-up. " 

"  Thank  you,  Billy  ;  but  tell  me,  am  I,  being  a  Page- 
brook,  under  any  consequent  obligation  to  consider 
myself  a  tadpole  during  my  stay  in  Virginia  ?  " 

Billy's  only  answer  was  a  laugh. 

"Now,   Billy,"  Robert  resumed,  "tell  me  about  the 


40  A    MAX   OF   HONOR. 

people  of  Shirley.  I  am  sadly  ignorant,  you  under 
stand,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  make  mistakes.  Begin  at 
top,  and  tell  me  how  I  shall  call  them  all. " 

"Well,  there's  father  ;  you  will  call  him  Uncle  Carter, 
of  course.  He  is  Col.  Carter  Barksdale,  you  know." 

"  I  knew  his  name  was  Carter,  of  course,  but  I  did  not 
know  he  had  ever  been  a  military  man." 

"A  military  man!  No,  he  never  was.  What  made 
you  think  that  ?  " 

"  Why  you  called  him  '  Colonel.'  " 

"  0  that's  nothing  !  You'll  find  every  gentleman  past 
middle  age  wearing  some  sort  of  title  or  other.  They 
call  father  '  Colonel  Barksdale/  and  Cousin  Edwin  '  Major 
Pagebrook,'  though  neither  of  them  ever  saw  a  tent 
that  I  know  of." 

"Ah!  another  interesting  custom  of  the  country. 
But  pray  go  on." 

"Well,  mother  is  ( Aunt  Mary,'  you  know,  and  then 
there's  Aunt  Catherine." 

"  Indeed  !  who  is  she  ?    Is  she  my  aunt  ?" 

"  I  really  don't  know.  Let  me  see.  No,  I  reckon  not ; 
nor  mine  either,  for  that  matter.  I  think  she's  father's 
fourth  or  fifth  cousin,  with  a  remove  or  two  added, 
possibly,  but  you  must  call  her  ( Aunt '  anyhow ;  we  all 
do,  and  she'd  never  forgive  you  if  you  didn't.  You  see 
she  knew  your  father,  and  I  reckon  he  called  her  '  Aunt.' 
It's  a  way  we  have  here.  She  is  a  maiden  lady,  you 
understand,  and  Shirley  is  her  home.  You'll  find  some 
body  of  that  sort  in  nearly  every  house,  ^nd  they're  a 
delightful  sort  of  somebody,  too,  to  have  round.  She'll 


A  MAK   OF  HO-^OR.  41 

post  you  up  on  relationships.  She  can  use  up  a  whole 
key-basket  full  of  keys,  and  run  'em  over  by  name  back 
wards  or  forwards,  just  as  you  please.  You  needn't  fol 
low  her  though  if  you  object  to  a  headache.  All  you've 
got  to  do  is  to  let  her  tell  you  about  it,  and  you  say  'yes' 
now  and  then.  She  puts  me  through  every  week  or  so. 
Then  there's  Cousin  Sudie,  my  father's  niece  and  ward. 
She's  been  an  orphan  almost  all  her  life,  and  so  she's 
always  lived  with  us.  Father  is  her  guardian,  and  he 
always  calls  her  ' daughter.'  You'll  call  her  'Cousin 
Sue,'  of  course." 

"  Then  she  is  akin  to  me  too,  is  she  ?" 

"  Of  course.     She's  father's  own  brother's  child." 

"  But,  Billy,  your  father  is  only  my  uncle  by  marriage, 

and  I  do  not  understand  how " 

"  0  bother  !  If  you're  going  to  count  it  up,  I  reckon 
there  a'n't  any  real  relationship  ;  but  she's  your  cousin, 
anyhow,  and  you'll  offend  her  if  you  refuse  to  own  it. 
Call  her  'Cousin,'  and  be  done  witn  it." 

' e  Being  one  of  the  large  Pagebrook  tadpoles,  I  suppose 
I  must.  However,  in  the  case  of  a  young  lady,  I  shall 
not  find  it  difficult,  I  dare  say." 


42  A  MAN   OF  HONOR. 


CHAPTER    V. 

Mr.  Pagebrook  makes  Some  Acquaintances. 

MR.  ROBERT  had  often  heard  of  "an  Old  Vir 
ginian  welcome,"  but  precisely  what  constituted  it 
he  never  knew  until  the  carriage  in  which  he  rode  drove 
around  the  "circle"  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  Shirley 
mansion.  The  first  thing  which  struck  him  as  peculiar 
about  the  preparations  made  for  his  reception  was  the 
large  number  of  small  negroes  who  thought  their  presence 
necessary  to  the  occasion.  Little  black  faces  grinned  at 
him  from  behind  every  tree,  and  about  a  dozen  of  them 
peered  out  from  a  safe  position  behind  "  ole  mas'r  and  ole 
missus."  Mr.  Billy  had  telegraphed  from  Richmond 
announcing  the  coming  of  his  guest,  and  so  every  darkey 
on  the  plantation  knew  that  "  Mas'  Joe's  son"  was  "a 
comin'  wid  Mas'  Billy  from  de  Norf,"  and  every  one  that 
could  find  a  safe  hiding  place  in  the  yard  was  there  to 
see  him  come. 

Col.  Barksdale  met  him  at  the  carriage  while  the 
ladies  were  in  waiting  on  the  porch,  as  anybody  but  a  Vir 
ginian  would  put  it — in  the  porch,  as  they  themselves 
would  have  phrased  it.  The  welcome  was  of  the  right 
hearty  order  which  nobody  ever  saw  outside  of  Virginia — 


A  MAK   OF  HO^OE.  43 

a  welcome  which  made  the  guest  feel  himself  at  once  a 
very  part  of  the  establishment. 

Inside  the  house  our  young  friend  found  himself  sorely 
puzzled.  The  furniture  was  old  in  style  but  very 
elegant,  a  thing  for  which  he  was  fully  prepared,  but  it 
stood  upon  absolutely  bare  white  floors.  There  were  both 
damask  and  lace  curtains  at  the  windows,  but  not  a  ves 
tige  of  carpet  was  anywhere  to  be  seen.  Mr.  Eobert  said 
nothing,  but  wondered  silently  whether  it  was  possible 
that  he  had  arrived  in  the  midst  of  house-cleaning. 
Conversation,  luncheon,  and  finally  dinner  at  four, 
occupied  his  attention,  however,  and  after  dinner  the 
whole  family  gathered  in  the  porch — for  really  I  believe 
the  Virginians  are  right  about  that  preposition.  I  will 
ask  Mr.  Eobert  himself  some  day. 

He  soon  found  himself  thoroughly  at  home  in  the  old 
family  mansion,  among  relatives  who  had  never  been 
strangers  to  him  in  any  proper  sense  of  the  term.  Not 
only  was  Mrs.  Barksdale  his  father's  sister,  but  Col. 
Barksdale  himself  had  been  that  father's  nearest  friend. 
The  two  had  gone  west  together  to  seek  their  fortunes 
there  ;  but  the  Colonel  had  returned  after  a  few  years 
to  practice  his  profession  in  his  native  state  and  ultimate 
ly  to  marry  his  friend's  sister.  Mr.  Eobert  soon  felt  him 
self  literally  at  home,  therefore,  and  the  feeling  was 
intensely  enjoyable,  too,  to  a  young  man  who  for  ten 
years  had  not  known  any  home  other  than  that  of  a 
bachelor's  quarters  in  a  college  community.  His  reception 
at  Shirley  had  not  been  the  greeting  of  a  guest  but  rather 
the  welcoming  of  a  long  wandering  son  of  the  house. 


44  A   MAJS"   OF  HOKOE. 

To  his  relatives  there  he  seemed  precisely  that,  and  their 
feeling  in  the  case  soon  became  his  own.  This  "  clannish- 
ness/'  as  it  is  called,  may  not  be  peculiar  to  Virginia  of  all 
the  states,  but  I  have  never  seen  it  half  so  strongly  mani 
fested  anywhere  else  as  there. 

Toward  evening  Maj.  Pagebrook  and  his  son  Ewing 
rode  over  to  call  upon  their  cousin  Kobert,  and  after  the 
introductions  were  over,  " Cousin  Edwin"  went  on  to 
talk  of  Kobert's  father,  for  whom  he  had  felt  an  unusual 
degree  of  affection,  as  all  the  relatives  had,  for  that 
matter,  Kobert's  father  having  been  an  especial  favorite 
in  the  family.  Then  the  conversation  became  more 
general. 

"When  are  you  going  to  cut  that  field  of  tobacco  by 
the  prize  barn,  Cousin  Edwin  ?"  asked  Billy.  "  I  see  it's 
ripening  pretty  rapidly." 

"Yes,  it  is  getting  pretty  ripe  in  spots,  and  I  wanted 
to  put  the  hands  into  it  yesterday,"  replied  Maj.  Page- 
brook  ;  "but  Sarah  Ann  thought  we'd  better  keep  them 
plowing  for  wheat  a  day  or  two  longer,  and  now  I'm 
afraid  it's  going  to  rain  before  I  can  get  a  first  cutting 
done." 

"  How  much  did  you  get  for  the  tobacco  you  sent  to 
Richmond  the  other  day,  Edwin  ?  "  asked  the  colonel. 

"Only  five  dollars  and  three  cents  a  hundred, 
average. " 

"You'd  have  done  a  good  deal  better  if  you'd  sold  in 
the  spring,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  a  good  deal.  I  wanted  to  sell  then,  but  Sarah 
Ann  insisted  on  holding  it  till  fall.  By  the  way,  I'm 


A   MAN    OF   HONOK,  45 

going  to  put  all  my  lots,  except  the  one  by  the  creek,  in 
corn  next  year,  and  raise  hardly  any  tobacco." 

"All  but  the  creek  lot?  Why  that's  the  only  good 
corn  land  you  have,  Edwin,  and  it  isn't  safe  to  put 
tobacco  in  it  either,  for  it  overflows  a  little. " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.  But  Sarah  Ann  is  discouraged  by 
the  price  we  got  for  tobacco  this  year,  and  doesn't  want 
me  to  plant  the  lots  next  season  at  all." 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  over  and 
come  to  dinner  to-day,  Cousin  Edwin  ?"  asked  Miss 
Barksdale,  coming  out  of  the  dining-room,  key-basket  in 
hand,  to  speak  to  the  guests. 

"  Oh  !  we've  only  one  carriage  horse  now,  you  know.  I 
sold  the  black  last  week,  and  haven't  been  able  to  find 
another  yet." 

"  Sold  the  black  !  Why,  what  was  that  for,  Cousin  Ed  ! 
I  thought  you  specially  liked  him  ?"  said  Billy. 

' '  So  I  did;  but  Sarah  Ann  didn't  like  a  black  and  a  gray 
together,  and  she  wouldn't  let  me  sell  the  gray  on  any 
terms,  though  I  could  have  matched  the  black  at  once. 
Winger  has  a  colt  well  broken  that's  a  perfect  match  for 
him.  Come,  Ewing,  we  must  be  going.  Sarah  Ann  said 
we  must  be  home  to  tea  without  fail.  You'll  come  to 
The  Oaks,  Robert,  of  course.  Sarah  Ann  will  expect 
you  very  soon,  and  you  mustn't  stand  on  ceremony,  you 
know,  but  come  as  often  as  you  can  while  you  stay  at 
Shirley." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Cousin  Edwin,  Bob  ?"  asked 
Billy  when  the  guests  had  gone. 

"  That  he  is  a  very  excellent  person,  and " 


46  A   MAN   OF   HOXOK. 

( '  And  what  ?  Speak  out.    Let's  hear  what  you  think." 

"  Well,  that  he  is  a  very  dutiful  husband." 

"Bob,  I'd  give  a  pretty  for  your  knack  at  saying 
things.  Your  tongue's  as  soft  as  a  feather  bed.  But 
wait  till  you  know  the  madam.  You'll  say — 

"My  son,  you  shouldn't  prejudice  Robert  against 
people  he  doesn't  know.  Sarah  Ann  has  many  good 
qualities — I  suppose." 

"  Well,  then,  I  don't  suppose  anything  of  the  sort,  else 
she  would  have  found  out  how  good  a  man  Cousin  Edwin 
is  long  ago,  and  would  have  behaved  herself  better 
every  way." 

"  William,  you  are  uncharitable  !" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  mother.  Your  charity  is  like  a 
microscope  when  it  is  hunting  for  something  good  to  say 
of  people.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  dead  Dutchman  ?" 

"Do  pray,  Billy,  don't  tell  me  any  of  your  anecdotes 
now." 

"Just  this  one,  mother.  There  was  a  dead  Dutchman 
who  had  been  the  worst  Dutchman  in  the  business. 
When  the  people  came  to  sit  up  with  his  corpse — don't 
run,  mother,  I'm  nearly  through — they  couldn't  find 
anything  good  to  say  about  him,  and  as  they  didn't  want 
to  say  anything  bad  there  was  a  profound  silence  in  the 
room.  Finally  one  eld  Dutchman,  heaving  a  sigh, 
remarked  :  '  Veil,  Hans  vas  vone  goot  schmoker,  anyhow.' 
Let  me  see.  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  gives  good  dinners, 
anyhow,  only  she  piles  too  much  on  the  table.  See  liow 
charitable  I  am,  mother.  I  have  actually  found  and 
designated  the  madam's  one  good  point." 


A   MAN"    OF   HOKOK.  47 

"Come,  come,  my  son,"  said  the  colonel,  "you 
shouldn't  talk  so." 

Shortly  after  tea  the  two  young  men  pleaded  the 
weariness  of  travelers  in  excuse  for  an  early  bed  going. 
Mr.  Boh  was  offered  his  choice  between  occupying  alone 
the  Blue  Eoom,  which  is  the  state  guest  chamber  in  most 
Virginian  houses,  and  taking  a  bed  in  Billy's  room.  He 
promptly  chose  the  latter,  and  when  they  were  alone,  he 
turned  to  his  cousin  and  asked  : 

"  Billy,  have  you  such  a  thing  as  a  dictionary  about  ?" 

"Nothing  but  a  law  dictionary,  I  believe.  Will 
that  do?" 

"  Eeally  I  do  not  know.     Perhaps  it  might." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  find  ?"  asked  Billy. 

"  I  only  wish  to  ascertain  whether  or  not  we  arrived 
here  in  time  for  ( snack.'  You  said  we  would,  I  believe." 

"Well,  we  did,  didn't  we  ?" 

ff  That  is  precisely  what  I  wish  to  find  out.  Having 
never  heard  of  ( snack '  until  you  mentioned  it  as  one  of 
the  things  we  should  find  at  Shirley,  I  have  been  curious 
to  know  what  it  is  like,  and  so  I  have  been  watching  for 
it  ever  since  we  got  here.  Pray  tell  me  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  Well,  that's  a  good  one.  I  must  tell  Sudie  that,  and 
get  her  to  introduce  you  formally  to-morrow." 

"It  is  another  interesting  custom  of  the  country,  I 
suppose." 

"  Indeed  it  is  ;  and  it  isn't  one  of  those  customs  that 
are  '  more  honored  in  the  breach  than  the  observance,' 
either." 


48  A   MAN   OF  HONOli. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Mr.  Pagebroolc  makes  a  Good  Impression. 

YOUNG  Pagebrook  was  an  early  riser.  Not  that  he 
was  afflicted  with  one  of  those  unfortunate  con 
sciences  which  make  of  early  rising  a  penance,  by  any 
means.  He  was  not  prejudiced  against  lying  abed,  nor 
bigoted  about  getting  up.  He  quoted  no  adages  on  the 
subject,  and  was  not  illogical  enough  to  believe  that 
getting  up  early  and  yawning  for  an  hour  or  two  every 
morning  would  bring  health,  wisdom,  or  wealth  to  any 
body.  In  short,  he  was  an  early  riser  not  on  principle 
but  of  necessity.  Somehow  his  eyelids  had  a  way  of  pop 
ping  themselves  open  about  sunrise  or  earlier,  and  his 
great  brawny  limbs  could  not  be  kept  in  bed  long  after 
this  happened.  He  got  up  for  precisely  the  same  reason 
that  most  people  lie  abed,  namely,  because  there  was  noth 
ing  else  to  do.  On  the  morning  after  his  arrival  at 
Shirley  he  awoke  early  and  heard  two  things  which 
attracted  his  attention.  The  first  was  a  sound  which 
puzzled  him  more  than  a  little.  It  was  a  steady, 
monotonous  scraping  of  a  most  unaccountable  kind — 
somewhat  like  the  sound  of  a  carpenter's  plane  and  some 
what  like  that  of  a  saw.  Had  it  been  out  of  doors  he 


A  MAN   OF  HONOR.  49 

would  have  thought  nothing  of  it ;  but  clearly  it  was  in 
the  house,  and  not  only  so,  but  in  every  part  of  the 
house  except  the  bedrooms.  Scrape,  scrape,  scrape, 
scrape,  scrape.  What  it  meant  he  could  not  guess.  As 
he  lay  there  wondering  about  it  he  heard  another  sound, 
greatly  more  musical,  at  which  he  jumped  out  of  bed  and 
began  dressing,  wondering  at  this  sound,  too,  quite  as 
much  as  at  the  other,  though  he  knew  perfectly  well  that 
this  was  nothing  more  than  a  human  voice — Miss  Sudie's, 
to  wit.  He  wondered  if  there  ever  was  such  a  voice 
before  or  ever  would  be  again.  Not  that  the  young 
woman  was  singing,  for  she  was  doing  nothing  of  the 
sort.  She  was  merely  giving  some  directions  to  the 
servants  about  household  matters,  but  her  voice  was 
music  nevertheless,  and  Mr.  Bob  made  up  his  mind  to 
hear  it  to  better  advantage  by  going  down-stairs  at  once. 
Now  I  happen  to  know  that  this  young  woman's  voice 
was  in  no  way  peculiar  to  herself.  Every  well-bred  girl 
in  Virginia  has  the  same  rich,  full,  soft  tone,  and  they 
all  say,  as  she  did,  "grauss,"  "glauss"  "bausket," 
"cyarpet,"  "cyart,"  "gyarden,"  and  "gyirl."  But  it 
so  happened  that  Mr.  Bob  had  never  heard  a  Virginian 
girl  talk  before  he  met  Miss  Barksdale,  and  to  him  her 
rich  German  a's  and  the  musical  tones  of  her  voice  were 
peculiarly  her  own.  Perhaps  all  these  things  would  have 
impressed  him  differently  if  "Cousin  Sudie"  had  been 
an  ugly  girl.  I  have  no  means  of  determining  the  point, 
inasmuch  as  " Cousin  Sudie"  was  certainly  anything  else 
than  ugly. 
Mr.  Eobert  made  a  hasty  toilet  and  descended  to  the 


50  A   MAK   OF  HO^OR. 

great  hall,  or  passage,  as  they  call  it  in  Virginia.  As  he 
did  so  he  discovered  the  origin  of  the  scraping  sound 
which  had  puzzled  him,  as  it  puzzles  everybody  else  who 
hears  it  for  the  first  time.  Dry  "pine  tags"  (which  is 
Virginian  for  the  needles  of  the  pine)  were  scattered  all 
over  the  floors,  and  several  negro  women  were  busy 
polishing  the  hard  white  planks  by  rubbing  them  with  an 
indescribable  implement  made  of  a  section  of  log,  a 
dozen  corn  husks  ("shucks,"  the  Virginians  call  them — 
a  "corn  husk"  in  Virginia  signifying  a  cob  always),  and 
a  pole  for  handle. 

"Good  morning,  Cousin  Robert.  You're  up  soon," 
said  the  little  woman,  coming  out  of  the  dining-room  and 
putting  a  soft,  warm  little  hand  in  his  great  palm. 

Now  to  young  Pagebrook  this  was  a  totally  new  use  of 
the  word  "soon,"  and  I  dare  say  he  would  have  been 
greatly  interested  in  it  but  for  the  fact  that  the  trim 
little  woman  who  stood  there,  key-basket  in  hand,  inter 
ested  him  more. 

"  You've  caught  me  in  the  midst  of  my  housekeeping, 
but  never  mind ;  only  be  careful,  or  you'll  slip  on  the 
pine  tags  ;  they're  as  slippery  as  glass." 

"And  is  that  the  reason  they  are  scattered  on  the 
floor?" 

"  Yes,  we  polish  with  them.  Up  North  you  wax  your 
floors  instead,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  for  balls  and  the  like,  I  believe,  but  commonly 
we  have  carpets." 

"  What !  in  summer  time,  too  ?" 

"  Q  yes  !  certainly,     Why  not  ?" 


A  MAK   OF  HOi^OR.  51 

<e  Why,  they're  so  warm.  We  take  ours  up  soon  in  the 
spring,  and  never  put  them  down  again  until  fall." 

This  time  Mr.  Eobert  observed  the  queer  use  of  the 
word  "soon,"  but  said  nothing  about  it.  He  said 
instead  : 

"  What  a  lovely  morning  it  is  !  How  I  should  like  to 
ride  horseback  in  this  air  ! " 

"Would  you  let  me  ride  with  you  ?"  asked  the  little 
maiden. 

"Such  a  question,  Cousin  Sudie  !" 

Now  I  am  free  to  confess  that  this  last  remark  was 
unworthy  Mr.  Pagebrook.  If  not  ungrammatical,  it  is  at 
least  of  questionable  construction,  and  so  not  at  all  like 
Mr.  Pagebrook's  usage.  But  the  demoralizing  effect  of 
Miss  Sudie  Barksdale's  society  did  not  stop  here  by  any 
means,  as  we  shall  see  in  due  time. 

"If  you'd  really  like  to  ride,  I'll  have  the  horses 
brought,"  said  the  little  lady. 

"And  you  with  me?" 

"Yes,  if  I  may." 

"  I  shall  be  more  than  happy." 

"  Dick,  run  up  to  the  barn  and  tell  Uncle  Polidore  to 
saddle  Patty  for  me  and  Graybeard  for  your  Mas'  Robert. 
Do  you  hear  ?  Excuse  me,  Cousin  Eobert,  and  I'll  put 
on  my  habit." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  pair  reined  in  their  horses  on 
the  top  of  a  little  hill,  to  look  at  the  sunrise.  The 
morning  was  just  cool  enough  to  be  thoroughly  pleasant, 
and  the  exhilaration  which  comes  of  nothing  else  so 
surely  as  of  rapid  riding  began  to  tell  upon  the  spirits  of 


52  A  MAH   OF  HONOR. 

both.  Cousin  Sudie  was  a  good  rider  and  a  graceful  one, 
and  she  knew  it.  Robert's  riding  hitherto  had  been 
done,  for  the  most  part,  in  cities,  and  on  smooth  roads  ; 
but  he  held  his  horse  with  a  firm  hand,  and  controlled 
him  perforce  of  a  strong  will,  which,  with  great  personal 
fearlessness  and  a  habit  of  doing  well  whatever  he  under 
took  to  do  at  all,  and  undertaking  v/hatever  was  expect 
ed  of  him,  abundantly  supplied  the  lack  he  had  of 
experience  in  the  rougher  riding  of  Virginia  on  the  less 
perfectly  trained  horses  in  use  there.  He  was  a  stalwart 
fellow,  with  shapely  limbs  and  perfect  ease  of  movement, 
so  that  on  horseback  he  was  a  very  agreeable  young 
gentleman  to  look  at,  a  fact  of  which  Miss  Sudie  speedily 
became  conscious.  Her  rides  were  chiefly  without  a 
cavalier,  as  they  were  usually  taken  early  in  the  morning 
before  her  cousin  Billy  thought  of  getting  up  ;  and 
naturally  enough  she  enjoyed  the  presence  of  so  agreeable 
a  young  gentleman  as  Mr.  Rob  certainly  was,  and  her 
enjoyment  of  his  company — she  being  a  woman — was  not 
diminished  in  the  least  by  the  discovery  that  to  his  intel 
lectual  and  social  accomplishments,  which  were  very 
genuine,  there  were  added  a  handsome  face,  a  comely 
person,  and  a  manly  enthusiasm  for  out-door  exercise. 
When  he  pulled  some  wild  flowers  which  grew  by  the 
road-side  without  dismounting — a  trick  he  had  picked  up 
somewhere — she  wondered  at  the  ease  and  grace  with 
which  it  was  done  ;  when  he  added  to  the  flowers  a  little 
cluster  of  purple  berries  from  a  wild  vine,  of  which  I  do 
not  know  the  name,  and  a  sprig  of  sumac,  still  wet  with 
dew,  she  admired  his  taste  ;  and  when  he  gallantly  asked 


A   MAN   OF   HONOR.  53 

leave  to  twine  the  whole  into  her  hair,  for  her  hat  had 
come  off,  as  good-looking  young  women's  hats  always  do 
on  such  occasions,  she  thought  him  "  just  nice." 

It  is  really  astonishing  how  rapidly  acquaintanceships 
form  under  favorable  circumstances.  These  two  young 
people  were  shy,  both  of  them,  and  on  the  preceding  day 
had  hardly  spoken  to  each  other  at  all.  When  they 
mounted  their  horses  that  morning  they  were  almost 
strangers,  and  they  might  have  remained  only  half 
acquaintances  for  a  week  or  a  fortnight  but  for  that 
morning's  ride.  They  were  gone  an  hour,  perhaps,  in  all, 
and  when  they  sat  down  to  breakfast  they  were  on  terms 
of  easy  familiarity  and  genuine  friendship. 


54  A  MAN   OF  HOKOE. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Mr.  Pagebrook  Learns  Several  Things. 

AFTEE  breakfast  Robert  walked  out  with  Billy  to 
see  the  negroes  at  work  cutting  tobacco,  an  in 
teresting  operation  always,  and  especially  so  when  one 
sees  it  for  the  first  time. 

"Gilbert/'  said  Billy  to  his  "head  man,"  "did  you 
find  any  ripe  enough  to  cut  in  the  lot  there  by  the  prize 
barn?" 

""No  sah ;  dat's  de  greenest  lot  of  tobawkah  on  de 
plantation,  for  all  'twas  plaunted  fust.  I  dunno  what  to 
make  uv  it." 

"  Why,  Billy,  I  thought  Cousin  Edwin  owned  the 
'  prize '  barn  ! "  said  Robert. 

"So  he  does— his." 

"  Are  there  two  of  them  then  ?" 

"  Two  of  them  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  Every  plan 
tation  has  its  prize  barn,  of  course." 

"  Indeed  !    Who  gives  the  prizes  ?  " 

'lHa  !  ha !  Bob,  that's  good  ;  only  you'd  better  ask 
me  always  when  you  want  to  know  about  things  here,  else 
you'll  get  yourself  laughed  at.  A  prize  barn  is  simply 
the  barn  in  which  we  prize  tobacco." 


A  MAK   OF  HOKOR.  55 

<(  And  what  is  c  prizing '  tobacco  ?  " 

"  Possibly  '  prize '  a'n't  good  English,  Bob,  but  it's  the 
standard  Ethiopian  for  pressing,  and  everybody  here  uses 
it.  We  press  the  tobacco  in  hogsheads,  you  know,  and 
we  call  it  prizing.  It  never  struck  me  as  a  peculiarly 
Southern  use  of  the  word,  but  perhaps  it  is  for  all  that. 
You're  as  sharp  set  as  a  circular  saw  after  dialect,  a'n't 
you?" 

"  I  really  do  not  know  precisely  how  sharp  set  a  circu 
lar  saw  is,  but  I  am  greatly  interested  in  your  peculiar 
uses  of  English,  certainly." 

Upon  returning  to  the  house  Billy  said  : 

' ( Bob  I  must  let  you  take  care  of  yourself  for  two  or 
three  hours  now,  as  I  have  some  papers  to  draw  up  and 
they  won't  wait.  Next  week  is  court  week,  and  I've  got 
a  great  deal  to  do  between  now  and  then.  But  you're 
at  home  you  know,  old  fellow." 

So  saying  Mr.  Billy  went  to  his  office,  which  was  sit 
uated  in  the  yard,  while  Robert  strolled  into  the  house. 
Looking  into  the  dining-room  he  saw  there  Cousin  Sudie. 
Possibly  the  young  gentleman  was  looking  for  her.  I  am 
sure  I  do  not  know.  But  whether  he  had  expected  to 
find  her  there  or  not,  he  certainly  felt  some  little  surprise 
as  he  looked  at  her. 

"  Why,  Cousin  Sudie,  is  it  possible  that  you  are  wash 
ing  the  dishes  ?" 

"  0  certainly  !  and  the  plates  and  cups  too.  In  fact,  I 
wash  up  all  the  things  once  a  day." 

t(  Pray  tell  me,  cousin,  precisely  what  you  understand 
by  6  dishes,'  if  I'm  not  intruding,"  said  Robert. 


56  A  HAH   OF   HOHOR. 

"  0  not  at  all !  come  in  and  sit  down.  You'll  find  it 
pleasanter  there  by  the  window.  ( Dishes  ? '  Why,  that 
is  a  dish,  and  that  and  that,"  pointing  to  them. 

"  I  see.  The  word  '  dishes '  is  not  a  generic  term  in 
Virginia,  but  applies  only  to  platters  and  vegetable  dishes. 
What  do  you  call  them  in  the  aggregate,  Cousin  Sudie  ? 
I  mean  plates,  platters,  cups,  saucers,  and  everything." 

"Why  ' things,'  I  suppose.  We  speak  of  ' breakfast 
things,'  'tea  things,'  ' dinner  things.'  But  why  were 
you  astonished  to  see  me  washing  them,  Cousin  Robert  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  known  better,  but  the  fact 
is  I  had  an  impression  that  Southern  ladies  were  wholly 
exempt  from  all  work  except,  perhaps,  a  little  embroid 
ery  or  some  such  thing." 

•"  0  my  !  I  wish  you  could  see  me  during  circuit  court 
week,  when  Uncle  Carter  and  Cousin  Billy  bring  the 
judge  and  the  lawyers  home  with  them  at  all  sorts  of  odd 
hours ;  and  they  always  bring  the  hungriest  ones  there 
are  too.  I  fall  at  once  into  a  chronic  state  of  washing  up 
things,  and  don't  recover  until  court  is  over." 

"But  really,  cousin — pardon  me  if  I  am  inquisitive, 
for  I  am  greatly  interested  in  this  life  here  in  Virginia,  it 
is  so  new  to  me — how  is  it  that  you  must  wash  up  things 
at  all  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  carry  the  keys,  you  know.    I'm  housekeeper." 

"  Well,  but  you  have  servants  enough,  certainly,  and 
to  spare." 

"  0  yes  !  but  every  lady  washes  up  the  things  at  least 
once  a  day.  It  would  never  do  to  trust  it  altogether  to 
the  servants,  you  know." 


A   MAK    OF   HOKOR.  59 

"  None  of  them  are  sufficiently  careful  and  trustworthy, 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  exactly  that  ;  but  it's  our  way  here,  and  if 
a  lady  were  to  neglect  it  people  would  think  her  a  poor 
housekeeper." 

"  Are  there  any  other  duties  devolving  upon  Virginian 
housekeepers  besides  ( washing  up  things  ? '  You  see  I 
am  trying  to  learn  all  I  can  of  a  life  which  is  as  charm 
ingly  strange  to  me  as  that  of  Turkey  or  China  would  be 
if  I  were  to  go  to  either  country." 

"Any  other  duties  ?  Indeed  there  are,  and  you  shall 
learn  what  they  are,  if  you  won't  find  it  stupid  to  go  my 
rounds  with  me.  I'm  going  now." 

"  I  should  find  dullness  itself  interesting  with  you  as 
my  fellow  observer  of  it. " 

"  Eight  gallantly  said,  kind  sir,"  said  Miss  Sudie,  with 
an  exaggerated  curtsy.  "  But  if  you're  going  to  make 
pretty  speeches  I'll  get  impudent  directly.  I'm  dread 
fully  given  to  it  anyhow,  and  I've  a  notion  to  say  one  im 
pudent  thing  right  now." 

"  Pray  do.     I  pardon  you  in  advance." 

"  Well,  then,  what  makes  you  say  '  Virginian  house 
keepers  ? ' " 

"  What  else  should  I  say  ?" 

"Why,  Virginia  housekeepers,  of  course,  like  anybody 
else." 

"But  ( Virginia'  is  not  an  adjective,  cousin.  You 
would  not  say  (  England  housekeepers  '  or '  France  house 
keepers,'  would  you  ?"  asked  Robert. 

"  No,  but  I  would  say  ' New  York  housekeepers,'  'Mas- 


60  A   MAX   OF   HOXOR. 

sachusetts  housekeepers/  or  '  New  Jersey  housekeepers/ 
and  so  I  say  '  Virginia  housekeepers/  too.  I  reckon  you 
would  find  it  a  little  troublesome  to  carry  out  your  rule, 
wouldn't  you,  Cousin  Eobert  ?  " 

"  I  am  fairly  beaten,  I  own ;  and  in  consideration  of 
my  frank  acknowledgment  of  defeat,  perhaps  you  will 
permit  me  to  be  a  trifle  impudent." 

"After  that  gallant  speech  you  made  just  now,  I  can 
hardly  believe  such  a  thing  possible.  But  let  me  hear 
you  try,  please." 

"0  it's  very  possible,  I  assure  you!"  said  Eobert. 
"  See  if  it  is  not.  What  I  want  to  ask  is,  why  you  Vir 
ginians  so  often  use  the  word  '  reckon '  in  the  sense  of 
'think'  or  ' presume/  as  you  did  a  moment  since  ?" 

"  Because  it's  right,"  said  Sudie. 

t(  No,  cousin,  it  is  not  good  English,"  replied  Robert. 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  it's  good  Virginian,  and  that's  bet 
ter  for  my  purposes.  Besides,  it  must  be  good  English. 
St.  Paul  used  it  twice." 

"Did  he  ?  I  was  not  aware  that  the  Apostle  to  the 
Gentiles  spoke  English  at  all." 

"Come,  Cousin  Eobert,  I  must  give  out  dinner  now. 
Do  you  want  to  carry  my  key-basket  ?  " 


A   MAN   OF  HONOR.  61 


OHAPTEE    VIII. 

Miss  Sudie  makes  an  Apt  Quotation. 

MY  friend  who  writes  novels  tells  me  that  there  is  no 
other  kind  of  exercise  which  so  perfectly  rests  an 
over-tasked  brain  as  riding  on  horsehack  does.  His 
theory  is  that  when  the  mind  is  overworked  it  will  not 
quit  working  at  command,  but  goes  on  with  the  labor 
after  the  tools  have  been  laid  aside.  If  the  worker  goes 
to  bed,  either  he  finds  it  impossible  to  go  to  sleep  or  sleep 
ing  he  dreams,  his  mind  thus  working  harder  in  sleep 
than  if  he  were  awake.  Walking,  this  novelist  friend 
says,  affords  no  relief.  On  the  contrary,  one  thinks 
better  when  walking  than  at  any  other  time.  But  on 
horseback  he  finds  it  impossible  to  confine  his  thoughts 
to  any  subject  for  two  minutes  together.  He  may  begin 
as  many  trains  of  thought  as  he  chooses,  but  he  never 
gets  past  their  beginning.  The  motion  of  the  animal 
jolts  it  all  up  into  a  jumble,  and  rest  is  the  inevitable 
result.  The  man's  animal  spirits  rise,  in  sympathy, 
perhaps,  with  those  of  his  horse,  and  as  the  animal  in 
him  begins  to  assert  itself  his  intellect  yields  to  its  master 
and  suffers  itself  to  become  quiescent. 


62  A   MAN   OF   HONOK. 

Now  it  is  possible  that  Mr.  Kobert  Pagebrook  had  found 
out  this  fact  about  horseback  exercise,  and  determined 
to  profit  by  it  to  the  extent  of  securing  all  the  intellectual 
rest  he  could  during  his  stay  at  Shirley.  At  any  rate, 
his  early  morning  ride  with  "  Cousin  Sudie"  was  repeated, 
not  once,  but  every  day  when  decided  rain  did  not  inter 
fere.  He  became  greatly  interested,  too,  in  the  Virginian 
system  of  housekeeping,  and  made  daily  study  of  it  in 
company  with  Miss  Sudie,  whose  key-basket  he  carried  as 
she  went  her  rounds  from  dining-room  to  smoke-house, 
from  smoke-house  to  store-room,  from  store-room  to 
garden,  and  from  garden  to  the  shady  gable  of  the  house, 
where  Miss  Sudie  "  set "  the  churn  every  morning,  a 
process  which  consisted  of  scalding  it  out,  putting  in  the 
cream,  and  wrapping  wet  cloths  all  over  the  head  of  it  and 
far  up  the  dasher  handle,  as  a  precaution  against  the 
possible  results  of  carelessness  on  the  part  of  the  half 
dozen  little  darkeys  whose  daily  duty  it  was  to  "chun." 
Mr.  Robert  soon  became  well  versed  in  all  the  mysteries 
of  "giving  out"  dinner  and  other  things  pertaining  to 
the  office  of  housekeeper — an  office  in  which  every 
Virginian  woman  takes  pride,  and  one  in  the  duties  of 
which  every  well-bred  Virginian  girl  is  thoroughly  skilled. 
(Corollary — good  dinners  and  general  comfort.) 

Old  " Aunty"  cooks  are  always  extremely  slow  of 
motion,  and  so  the  young  ladies  who  carry  the  keys  have 
a  good  deal  of  necessary  leisure  during  their  morning 
rounds.  Miss  Sudie  had  a  pretty  little  habit,  as  a  gocd 
many  other  young  women  there  have,  of  carrying  a  book 
in  her  key-basket,  so  that  she  might  read  while  aunt 


A   MAN   OF   HONOR.  63 

Kizzey  (I  really  do  not  know  of  what  proper  noun  this 
very  common  one  is  an  abbreviation)  made  up  her  tray. 
Picking  up  a  volume  he  found  there  one  morning,  Kobert 
continued  a  desultory  conversation  by  saying  : 

"  You  don't  read  Montaigne,  do  you,  Cousin  Sudie  ?" 

"  0  yes  !  I  read  everything — or  anything,  rather.  I 
never  saw  a  book  I  couldn't  get  something  out  of,  except 
Longfellow." 

"Except  Longfellow  !"  exclaimed  Kobert  in  surprise. 
"Is  it  possible  you  don't  enjoy  Longfellow  ?  Why,  that 
is  heresy  of  the  rankest  kind  ! " 

"  I  know  it  is,  but  I'm  a  heretic  in  a  good  many  things. 
I  hate  Longfellow's  hexameters ;  I  don't  like  Tennyson  ; 
and  I  can't  understand  Browning  any  better  than  he 
understands  himself.  I  know  I  ought  to  like  them  all,  as 
you  all  up  North  do,  but  I  don't." 

Mr.  Robert  was  shocked.  Here  was  a  young  girl,  fresh 
and  healthy,  who  could  read  prosy  old  Montaigne's  chat 
ter  with  interest ;  who  knew  Pope  by  heart,  and  Dryden 
almost  as  well ;  who  read  the  prose  and  poetry  of  the 
eighteenth  century  constantly,  as  he  knew  ;  and  who,  on 
a  former  occasion,  had  pleaded  guilty  to  a  liking  for 
sonnets,  but  who  could  find  nothing  to  like  in  Tennyson, 
Longfellow,  or  Browning.  Somehow  the  discovery  was 
not  an  agreeable  one  to  him  though  he  could  hardly  say 
why,  and  so  he  chose  not  to  pursue  the  subject  further 
just  then.  He  said  instead  : 

"  That  is  the  queerest  Virginianism  I've  heard  yet — 
< you  all.'" 

"  It's    a   very  convenient   one,    you'll    admit,   and  a 


64  A   MAX   OF   HOXOR. 

Virginian  don't  care  to  go  far  out  of  his  way  in  such 
things." 

"You  will  think  me  critical  this  morning,  Cousin 
Sudie,  but  I  often  wonder  at  the  carelessness,  not  of 
Virginians  only,  but  of  everybody  else,  in  the  use  of  con 
tractions.  '  Don't/  for  instance,  is  well  enough  as  a  con 
traction  for  '  do  not,  but  nearly  everybody  uses  it,  as  you 
did  just  now,  for  '  does  not.' " 

"Do  don't  lecture  me,  Cousin  Robert.  I'm  a  heretic, 
I  tell  you,  in  grammar." 

"  ' Do  don't'  is  the  richest  provincialism  I  have  heard 
yet,  Cousin  Sudie.  I  really  must  make  a  note  of  that." 

"  Cousin  Robert,  do  you  read  Montaigne  ?" 

"Sometimes.     Why  ?" 

"  Do  you  remember  what  he  says  about  custom  and 
grammar  ?" 

"No.     What  is  it?" 

"  He  says  it,  remember,  and  not  I.  He  says  'they  that 
fight  custom  with  grammar  are  fools.'  What  a  rude  old 
fellow  he  was,  wasn't  he  ?" 

Mr.  Pagebrook  suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  to 
dine  that  day  at  his  cousin  Edwin's  house,  and  that  it 
was  time  for  him  to  go,  as  he  intended  to  walk,  Gray- 
beard  having  fallen  lame  during  that  morning's  gallop 
with  Miss  Sudie. 


A  MAN  OF  HONOR.  65 


CHAPTER      IX. 

Mr.  Pagebrook  Meets  an  Acquaintance. 

MR.  ROBERT  left  the  house  on  his  way  to  The  Oaks 
in  an  excellent  humor  with  himself  and  with 
everybody  else.  His  cousin  Billy  and  his  uncle  Col. 
Barksdale  were  both  absent,  in  attendance  upon  a  court 
in  another  county,  and  so  Mr.  Robert  had  recently  been 
left  almost  alone  with  Miss  Sudie,  and  now  that  they  had 
become  the  very  best  of  friends  our  young  man  enjoyed 
this  state  of  affairs  right  heartily.  In  truth  Miss  Sudie 
was  a  young  lady  very  much  to  Mr.  Robert's  taste,  in 
saying  which  I  pay  that  young  gentleman  as  handsome  a 
compliment  as  any  well  regulated  man  could  wish. 

Mr.  Robert  walked  briskly  out  of  the  front  gate  and 
down  the  road,  enjoying  the  bright  sun  and  the  rich 
coloring  of  the  October  woodlands,  and  making  merry  in 
his  heart  by  running  over  in  his  memory  the  chats  he  had 
been  having  of  late  with  the  little  woman  who  carried  the 
keys  at  Shirley.  If  he  had  been  forced  to  tell  precisely 
what  had  been  said  in  those  conversations,  it  must  be  con 
fessed  that  a  stranger  would  have  found  very  little  of 
interest  in  the  repetition,  but  somehow  the  recollection 


66  A  MAN  OF  HONOR. 

brought  a  frequent  smile  to  our  young  friend's  face  and 
put  an  additional  springiness  into  his  step.  His  inter 
course  with  this  cousin  by  brevet  may  not  have  been 
especially  brilliant  or  of  a  nature  calculated  to  be  particu 
larly  interesting  to  other  people,  but  to  him  it  had  been 
extremely  agreeable,  without  doubt. 

"  Mornin'  Mas'  Robert,"  said  Phil,  as  Eobert  passed 
the  place  at  which  the  old  negro  was  working.  "  How  is 
ye  dis  mornin'  ?  " 

"  Good  morning,  Phil.  I  am  very  well,  I  thank  you. 
How  are  you,  Phil?" 

"  Poorly,  thank  God.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Dat's  de  way 
Bro'  Joe  and  all  de  folks  always  says  it.  Dey  never 
will  own  up  to  bein'  rale  well.  But  I  tell  ye  now  Mas' 
Robert,  Phil's  a  well  nigger  always.  I  keeps  up  my  eend 
de  row  all  de  time.  I  kin  knock  de  spots  out  de  work  all 
day,  daunce  jigs  till  two  o'clock,  an'  go  'possum  huntin' 
till  mornin'  comes.  Is  ye  ever  been  'possum  huntin', 
Mas' Robert?" 

"No;  I  believe  I  never  hunted  opossums,  but  I  should 
greatly  like  to  try  it,  Phil." 

"  Would  ye  ?  Gim  me  yer  ban'  Mas'  Robert.  You  jes 
set  de  time  now,  and  if  Phil  don't  show  you  de  sights  o' 
'possum  huntin'  you  ken  call  me  a  po'  white  folkses  nig 
ger.  Dat's  a  fac'." 

Robert  promised  to  make  the  necessary  appointment  in 
due  time,  and  was  just  starting  off  again  on  his  tramp, 
when  Phil  asked  : 

"  Whare  ye  boun'  dis  mornin',  Mas'  Robert  ?" 

"  I'm  going  over  to  dine  at  The  Oaks,  Phil." 


A  MAN   OF   HONOR.  67 

"Yer  jest  out  de  house  in  time.  Bar  comes  Mas' 
Charles  Harrison." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Phil.  Why  do  you  say  I 
am  out  of  the  house  just  in  time  ?" 

"  Mas'  Kobert,  is  you  got  two  good  eyes  ?  Mas'  Charles 
is  a  doctor  you  know,  but'dey  a'n't  nobody  sick  at  Shirley. 
May  be  he's  afraid  Miss  Sudie's  gwine  to  get  sick.  Hi  ! 
git  up  Eoley  !  dis  a'n't  plowin'  mauster's  field:  g'long  I 
tell  ye!" 

As  Phil  turned  away  Dr.  Harrison  rode  up. 

' '  Good  morning,  Mr.  Pagebrook.  On  your  way  to 
The  Oaks  ?" 

"I  was,  but  if  you  are  going  to  Shirley  I  will  walk 
back  with  you  ! " 

"  0  no  !  no  !  I  am  only  going  to  stop  there  a  moment. 
I  am  on  my  way  to  see  some  patients  at  Exenholm,  and 
as  I  had  to  go  past  Shirley  I  brought  the  mail,  that's  all. 
I'll  not  be  there  ten  minutes,  and  I  know  they're  expect 
ing  you  at  The  Oaks.  I  brought  Ewing  along  with  me 
from  the  Court  House.  Foggy  had  been  too  much  for 
him  again." 

"Why  the  boy  promised  me  he  would  not  gamble 
again." 

"  Oh  !  it's  hardly  gambling.  Only  a  little  game  of  loo. 
Every  gentleman  plays  a  little.  I  take  a  hand  myself, 
now  and  then  ;  but  Foggy  is  a  pretty  old  bird,  you  know, 
and  he's  too  much  for  your  cousin.  Ewing  oughtn't  to 
play  with  Mm,  of  course,  and  that's  why  I  brought  him 
away  with  me.  By  the  way,  we're  going  to  get  a  fox  up 
in  a  day  or  two  and  show  you  some  sport.  The  tobacco's 


68  A   MAN   OF   HO^'OB. 

all  cut  now,  and  the  dogs  are  in  capital  order — as  thin  as 
a  lath.  You  must  be  with  us,  of  course.  We'll  get  up 
one  in  pine  quarter,  and  he's  sure  to  run  towards  the 
river ;  so  you  can  come  in  as  the  hounds  pass  Shirley." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  a  fox  hunt,  certainly,  but  I  have 
no  proper  horse,"  said  Robert.  * 

"  Why,  where's  Graybeard  ?  Billy  told  me  he  had 
turned  him  over  to  you  to  use  and  abuse." 

(<  So  he  did,  and  he  is  riding  his  bay  at  present.  But 
Graybeard  is  quite  lame  just  now." 

te  Ride  the  bay  then.  Billy  will  be  back  from  court  to 
night,  won't  he?" 

"Yes;  but  he  will  want  to  join  in  the  chase,  I 
suppose." 

"  I  reckon  he  will,  but  he  can  ride  something  else.  He 
don't  often  care  to  take  the  tail,  and  he  can  see  as  much 
as  he  likes  on  one  of  his  '  conestogas.'  I'll  tell  you  what 
you  can  do.  Winger's  got  a  splendid  colt,  pretty  well 
broken,  and  you  can  get  him  for  a  dollar  or  two  if  you 
a'n't  afraid  to  ride  him.  You  must  manage  it  somehow, 
so  as  to  be  ( in  at  the  death  ! '  I  want  you  to  see  fSome 
riding." 

Mr.  Robert  promised  to  see  what  he  could  do.  He 
greatly  wanted  to  ride  after  the  hounds  for  once  at  least, 
though  it  must  be  confessed  he  would  have  been  better 
pleased  had  the  hounds  to  be  ridden  after  belonged  to 
somebody  else  besides  the  gentleman  familiarly  known  as 
"Foggy,"  a  personage  for  whom  Mr.  Robert  had  certainly 
not  conceived  a  very  great  liking.  That  the  reader  may 
know  whether  his  prejudice  was  a  well-founded  one  or  not 


A  MAX   OF   HONOR.  69 

it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  go  back  a  little  and  gather  up 
some  of  the  loose  threads  of  my  story,  while  our  young 
man  is  on  his  way  to  The  Oaks.  I  have  been  so  deeply 
interested  in  the  ripening  acquaintanceship  between  Mr. 
Rob  and  Miss  Sudie  that  I  have  neglected  to  introduce 
some  other  personages,  less  agreeable  perhaps,  but  not  less 
important  to  the  proper  understanding  of  this  history. 
Leaving  young  Pagebrook  on  the  road,  therefore,  let  me 
tell  the  reader,  in  a  new  chapter,  something  about  the 
people  he  had  met  outside  the  hospitable  Shirley  mansion. 


70  A  MAN   OF  HONOR. 


CHAPTER    X. 

Chiefly  Concerning  "Foggy." 

DR.  CHARLES  HARRISON  was  a  young  man  of 
twenty-five  or  six,  a  distant  relative  of  the  Barks- 
dales — so  distant  indeed  that  he  would  never  have  known 
himself  as  a  relative  at  all,  if  he  and  they  had  not  been 
Virginians.  He. was  a  young  man  of  good  parts,  fond  of 
field  sports,  reasonably  well  behaved  in  all  external  mat 
ters,  but  without  any  very  fixed  moral  principles.  He 
was  a  gentleman,  in  the  strict  Virginian  sense  of  the 
term.  That  is  to  say  he  was  of  a  good  family,  was  well 
educated,  and  had  never  done  anything  to  disgrace  him 
self  ;  wherefore  he  was  received  in  all  gentlemen's  houses 
as  an  equal.  He  drank  a  little  too  freely  on  occasion,  and 
played  bluff  and  loo  a  trifle  too  often,  the  elderly  people 
thought  ;  but  these  things,  it  was'  commonly  supposed, 
were  only  youthful  follies.  He  would  grow  out  of  them — 
marry  and  settle  down  after  awhile.  He  was  on  the  whole 
a  very  agreeable  person  to  be  with,  and  very  much  of  a 
gentleman  in  his  mannei.  * 

"  Foggy  "  Raves  was  an  anomaly.     His  precise  position 
in  the  social  scale  was  a  very  difficult  thing  to  discover, 


A   MAK   OF   HONOR.  71 

and  is  still  more  difficult  to  define.  His  father  had  been, 
an  overseer,  and  so  "  Foggy"  was  certainly  not  a  "  gentle 
man."  Other  men  of  parentage  similar  to  his  knew  their 
places,  and  when  business  made  it  necessary  for  them  to 
visit  the  house  of  a  gentleman  they  expected  tqbe  receiv 
ed  in  the  porch  if  the  weather  were  tolerable,  and  in  the 
dining-room  if  it  were  not.  They  never  dreamed  of 
being  taken  into  the  parlor,  introduced  to  the  family,  or 
invited  to  dinner.  All  these  things  were  well  recognized 
customs  ;  the  line  of  demarkation  between  " gentlemen" 
and  " common  people"  was  very  sharply  drawn  indeed. 
The  two  classes  lived  on  excellent  terms  with  each  other, 
but  they  never  mixed.  The  gentleman  was  always 
courteous  to  the  common  people  out  of  respect  for  him 
self  ;  while  the  common  people  were  very  deferential  to 
every  gentleman  as  a  matter  of  duty.  Now  this  man 
Eaves  was  not  a  "gentleman."  That  much  was  clear. 
And  yet,  for  some  inscrutable  reason,  his  position  among 
the  people  who  knew  him  was  not  exactly  that  of  a  com 
mon  man.  He  was  never  invited  into  gentlemen's  houses 
precisely  as  a  gentleman  would  have  been,  it  is  true  ;  and 
yet  into  gentlemen's  houses  he  very  often  went,  and  that 
upon  invitation  too.  When  young  men  happened  to  be 
keeping  bachelors'  establishments,  either  temporarily  or 
permanently,  "Foggy"  was  sure  to  be  invited  pretty 
frequently  to  see  them.  As  long  as  there  were  no  ladies 
at  home  "Foggy  "knew  himself  welcome,  and  he  had 
played  whist  and  loo  and  bluif  in  many  genteel  parlors, 
into  which  he  never  thought  of  going  when  there  were 
ladies  on  the  plantation.  He  kept  a  fine  pack  of  hounds 


72  A  MAN"   OF  HONOR. 

too,  and  was  clearly  at  the  head  of  the  "fox-hunting 
interest"  of  the  county;  and  this  was  an  anomaly  also,  as 
fox-hunting  is  an  eminently  aristocratic  sport,  in  which 
gentlemen  engage  only  in  company  with  gentlemen — ex 
cept  in  "Foggy's"  case. 

Precisely  what  "Foggy's"  business  was  it  is  difficult  to 
say.  He  was  constable,  for  one  thing,  and  ex-officio  county 
jailor.  One  half  the  jail  building  was  fitted  up  as  his 
residence,  and  there  he  lived,  a  bachelor  some  fifty  years 
old.  He  hired  out  horses  and  buggies  in  a  small  way  now 
and  then,  but  his  earnings  were  principally  made  at 
"bluff"  and  "loo."  Once  or  twice  Colonel  Barksdale 
and  some  other  gentlemen  had  tried  to  oust  "Foggy" 
from  the  jail,  believing  that  his  establishment  there  was 
ruining  a  good  many  of  the  young  men,  as  it  certainly 
was.  Failing  in  this  they  had  him  indicted  for  gambling 
in  a  public  place,  but  the  prosecution  failed,  the  court 
holding  that  the  jailor's  private  rooms  in  the  jail  could 
not  be  called  a  public  place,  though  all  rooms  in  a  hotel 
had  been  held  public  within  the  meaning  of  the  statute. 

This  man's  Christian  name  was  not  "  Foggy,"  of  course, 
though  hardly  anybody  knew  what  it  really  was.  He 
had  won  his  sobriquet  in  early  life  by  paying  the  profes 
sional  gambler,  Daniel  K.  Foggy,  to  teach  him  "how  to 
beat  roulette,"  and  then  winning  his  money  back  by 
putting  his  purchased  knowledge  to  the  proof  at  Daniel's 
own  roulette  table.  Everybody  agreed  that  "Foggy" 
was  a  good  fellow.  He  would  go  far  out  of  his  way  to 
oblige  anybody,  and,  as  was  pretty  generally  agreed,  had 
a  good  many  of  the  instincts  of  a  gentleman.  He  was 


"FOGGY." 


A  MAN  OF  HOKOR.  75 

not  a  professional  gambler  at  all.  He  never  kept  a  faro 
bank.  He  played  cards  merely  for  amusement,  he  said, 
and  there  was  a  popular  tendency  to  believe  his  statement. 
The  betting  was  simply  to  "make  it  interesting/' and 
sometimes  the  play  did  grow  very  "interesting  "  indeed — 
interesting  to  the  extent  of  several  hundred  dollars 
frequently, 

Now  only  about  a  week  before  the  morning  on  which 
Mr.  Eobert  met  Dr.  Harrison,  he  had  gone  to  the  Court 
House  for  the  purpose  of  calling  upon  the  doctor.  "While 
there  young  Harrison  had  proposed  that  they  go  up  to 
Foggy's,  explaining  that  Foggy  was  "quite  a  character, 
whom  you  ought  to  know ;  not  a  gentleman,  of  course, 
but  a  good  fellow  as  ever  lived." 

Upon  going  to  Foggy's,  Eobert  had  found  his  cousin 
Ewing  Pagebrook  there  playing  cards.  The  boy — for  he 
was  not  yet  of  age — was  flushed  and  excited,  and  Robert 
saw  at  a  glance  that  he  had  been  losing  heavily.  On 
Robert's  entrance  he  threw  down  his  cards  and  declared 
himself  tired  of  play. 

"  I'll  arrange  that,  Foggy,"  said  the  boy,  with  a  nod. 

"  0  any  time  will  do  ! "  replied  the  other.  "  How  d'ye 
do,  Charley  ?  Come  in." 

Dr.  Charley  introduced  Robert,  and  the  latter,  barely 
recognizing  Foggy's  greeting,  turned  to  Ewing  and  asked  : 

"  What  have  you  been  doing,  Ewing  ?  Not  gambling, 
I  hope." 

"0  no  !  certainly  not,"  said  Foggy;  "only  a  little 
game  of  draw-poker,  ten  cents  ante." 

"  Well,  but  how  much  have  you  lost,  Ewing  ?"  asked 


76  A   MAN    OF   HONOR. 

Eobert.  "  How  much  more  than  you  can  pay  in  cash,  I 
mean  ?  I  see  you  haven't  settled  the  score." 

Ewing  was  inclined  to  resent  his  cousin's  questioning, 
but  his  rather  weak  head  was  by  no  means  a  match  for 
his  cousin's  strong  one.  This  great  hulking  Eobert  Page- 
brook  was  "  big  all  over/'  Billy  Barksdale  had  said.  His 
will  was  law  to  most  men  when  he  chose  to  assert  it 
strongly.  He  now  took  his  cousin  in  hand,  and  made 
him  confess  to  a  debt  of  fifty  dollars  to  the  gambler. 
Then  turning  to  Foggy  he  said  : 

"  Mr.  Eaves,  you  have  won  all  of  this  young  man's 
money  and  fifty  dollars  more,  it  appears.  IsTow,  as  I  un 
derstand  the  matter,  this  fifty  dollars  is  '  a  debt  of 
honor,'  in  gambling  parlance,  and  so  it  must  be  paid. 
But  you  must  acknowledge  that  you  are  more  than  a 
match  for  a  mere  boy,  and  you  ought  to  ( give  him 
odds.'  I  believe  that  is  the  correct  phrase,  is  it  not  ?" 

( '  Yes,  that's  right  ;  but  how  can  you  give  odds  in 
draw-poker  ?  " 

"I  am  going  to  show  you,  though  I  am  certainly  not 
acquainted  with  the  mysteries  of  that  game.  You  and 
he  think  he  owes  you  fifty  dollars.  Now  my  opinion  is 
that  he  owes  you  nothing,  while  you  owe  him  the  precise 
amount  of  cash  you  have  won  from  him  ;  and  I  propose 
to  effect  a  compromise.  The  law  of  Virginia  is  pretty 
stringent,  I  believe,  on  the  subject  of  gambling  with  peo 
ple  under  age,  and  if  I  were  disposed  I  could  give  you 
some  trouble  on  that  score.  But  I  propose  instead  to  pay 
you  ten  dollars — just  enough  to  make  a  receipt  worth 
while — and  to  take  your  receipt  in  full  for  the  amount 


A   MAtf   OF   HONOE.  77 

due.     I  shall  then  take  my  cousin  home,  and  he  can  pay 
me  at  his  leisure.     Is  that  satisfactory,  sir  ?  " 

Mr.  Eobert  was  in  a  towering  rage,  though  his  man 
ner  was  as  quiet  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive,  and  his  voice 
was  as  soft  and  smooth  as  a  woman's.  Had  Foggy  been 
disposed  to  presume  upon  his  antagonist's  apparent  calm 
ness  and  to  play  the  bully,  he  would  unquestionably  have 
got  himself  into  trouble  of  a  physical  sort  there  and  then. 
To  speak  plainly,  Eobert  Pagebrook  was  quite  prepared 
to  punish  the  gambler  with  his  fists,  and  would  undoubt 
edly  have  made  short  work  of  it  had  Foggy  provoked  him 
with  a  word.  But  Foggy  never  quarreled.  He  knew  his 
business  too  well  for  that.  He  never  gave  himself  airs 
with  gentlemen.  He  knew  his  place  too  well.  He  never 
got  himself  involved  in  any  kind  of  disturbance  which 
would  attract  attention  to  himself.  He  knew  the  conse 
quences  too  well.  He  was  always  quiet,  always  deferen 
tial,  always  satisfied ;  and  so,  while  he  had  no  reason  to 
anticipate  the  thrashing  which  Eobert  Pagebrook  was 
aching  to  give  him,  he  nevertheless  was  as  complacent  as 
possible  in  his  reply  to  that  gentleman. 

"Why  certainly,  Mr.  Pagebrook.  I  never  meant  to 
take  the  money  at  all.  I  only  wanted  to  frighten  our 
young  friend  here,  and  teach  him  a  lesson.  He  thinks 
he  can  play  cards  when  he  can't,  and  I  wanted  to  e  break 
him  of  sucking  eggs,'  that's  all.  I  meant  to  let  him  think 
he  had  to  pay  me  so  as  to  scare  him,  for  I  feel  an  interest 
in  Ewing. .  Ton  my  word  I  do.  Now  let  me  tell  you, 
Ewing,  we'll  call  this  square,  and  you  mustn't  play  no 
more.  You  play  honest  now,  but  if  you  keep  on  you'll 


78  A  MAI*"  or  HOSTOK. 

cheat  a  little  after  awhile,  and  when  a  man  cheats  at 
cards,  Ewing,  he'll  steal.  Mind,  I  speak  from  experience, 
for  I've  seen  a  good  deal  of  this  thing.  Come,  Charley, 
you  an<l  Mr.  Pagebrook,  let's  take  something.  I've  got 
some  splendid  Shield's  whisky." 

Mr.  Pagebrook  summoned  sufficient  courtesy  to  decline 
the  alcoholic  hospitality  without  rudeness,  and,  with  his 
cousin,  took  his  leave. 

Ewing  entreated  Eobert  to  keep  the  secret  he  had  thus 
stumbled  upon,  and  Eobert  promised  to  do  so  upon  the 
express  condition  that  Ewing  would  wholly  refrain  from 
playing  cards  for  money  in  future.  This  the  youth 
promised  to  do,  and  our  friend  Robert  congratulated 
himself  upon  his  success  in  saving  his  well-meaning  but 
rather  weak-headed  cousin  from  certain  ruin. 


A  MAK  OF  HONOE.  79 


CHAPTER   XL 

Mr.  Pagebrook  Rides. 

IN  view  of  the  circumstances  detailed  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  it  was  quite  natural  that  Robert  Pagebrook 
should  feel  some  annoyance  when  he  learned  from  young 
Harrison  that  his  cousin  had  again  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  Foggy  Raves.  And  he  did  feel  annoyance,  and  a  good 
deal  of  it,  as  he  resumed  his  walk  toward  The  Oaks. 
Aside  from  his  interest  in  his  cousin,  Robert  disliked  to 
be  beaten  at  anything,  and  to  find  that  the  gambler  had 
fairly  beaten  him  in  his  fight  for  the  salvation  of  Ewing 
was  anything  but  agreeable  to  him.  Then  again  his 
cousin  had  shown  himself  miserably  weak  of  moral  pur 
pose,  and  weaknesses  were  always  unpleasant  things  for 
Robert  Pagebrook  to  contemplate.  He  had  no  sympathy 
with  irresolution  of  any  sort,  and  no  patience  with  un 
stable  moral  knees.  He  was  half  angry  and  wholly 
grieved,  therefore,  when  he  heard  of  Ewing's  violation  of 
his  promise.  His  first  impulse  was  to  go  before  the  next 
grand  jury  and  secure  Foggy's  indictment  for  gambling 
with  a  minor,  but  a  maturer  reflection  convinced  him 
that  while  this  would  be  an  agreeable  thing  to  do  under 


80  A   MAX   OF   HOXOB. 

the  circumstances,  it  would  be  an  unwise  one  as  well. 
To  expose  Ewing  was  to  ruin  him  hopelessly,  Eobert  felt, 
knowing  as  he  did  that  reformation  in  the  face  of  public 
disgrace  requires  a  good  deal  more  of  moral  stamina  than 
Ewing  Pagebrook  ever  had.  Precisely  what  to  do  Kobert 
did  not  know.  He  would  talk  with  Cousin  Sudie  about 
the  matter,  and  see  what  she  thought  was  best.  Her 
judgment,  he  had  discovered,  was  particularly  good,  and 
it  might  help  him  to  a  determination. 

This  thinking  of  Cousin  Sudie  brought  back  to  his  mind 
Phil's  hint  as  to  the  purpose  of  Dr.  Harrison's  visit,  and 
his  face  burned  as  the  conviction  came  to  him  that  this 
man  might  be  Cousin  Sudie's  accepted  or  acceptable  lover. 
He  knew  well  enough  that  Harrison  called  frequently  at 
Shirley  ;  but  surely  Cousin  Sudie  would  have  mentioned 
the  man  often  in  conversation  if  he  had  been  largely 
in  her  mind.  Would  she  though  ?  This  was  a  second 
thought.  Was  not  her  silence,  on  the  contrary,  rather 
an  indication  that  she  did  think  of  the  man  ?  If  she  re 
cognized  him  as  a  lover,  would  she  not  certainly  avoid  all 
unnecessary  mention  of  his  name  ?  Was  not  Phil  likely 
to  be  pretty  well  informed  in  the  case  ?  All  these 
things  ran  rapidly  through  his  perturbed  mind.  But  why 
should  he  worry  himself  over  a  matter  that  in  no  way 
concerned  him  ?  He  was  not  interested  in  Cousin  Sudie 
except  as  a  friend.  Of  course  not.  Was  not  his  heart 
still  sore  from  its  suffering  at  the  hands  of  Miss  Nellie 
Currier  ?  No  ;  upon  the  whole  he  was  forced  to  confess 
that  it  was  not.  In  truth  he  had  not  thought  of  that 
young  lady  for  at  least  a  fortnight ;  and  now  that  he  did 


A   MAN   OF   HONOR,  81 

think  of  her  he  could  not  possibly  understand  how  or 
why  he  had  ever  cared  for  her  at  all.  But  he  was  not  in 
loye  with  Cousin  Sudie.  Of  that  he  wa -,  certain.  And 
yet  he  could  not  avoid  a  feeling  of  very  decided  annoy 
ance  at  the  thought  suggested  by  Phil's  remark.  He 
knew  young  Harrison  very  slightly,  but  he  was  accus 
tomed  to  take  men's  measures  pretty  promptly,  and  he 
was  not  at  all  satisfied  with  this  one  as  a  suitor  for  Cousin 
Sudie.  He  knew  that  Foggy  was  the  young  physi 
cian's  pretty  constant  associate.  He  knew  that  Harrison 
drank  at  times  to  excess,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  not  over 
scrupulous  upon  nice  points  of  morality.  In  short,  our 
young  man  was  in  a  fair  way  to  work  himself  into  a  very 
pretty  indignation  when  he  met  Maj. '  Pagebrook's  over 
seer,  Winger.  A  negotiation  immediately  ensued,  ending 
in  an  agreement  that  Eobert  should  ride  the  black  colt 
so  long  as  Graybeard's  lameness  should  continue,  paying 
Winger  a  moderate  hire  for  the  animal. 

The  bargain  concluded,  Winger  dismounted  and 
Eobert  took  his  place  on  the  colt's  back,  borrowing 
Winger's  saddle  until  his  return  to  Shirley  in  the  even 
ing. 

Horseback  exercise  is  a  curious  thing,  certainly,  in 
some  of  its  effects.  When  Eobert  was  afoot  that  morn 
ing  several  things  had  combined,  as  we  have  seen,  to 
make  him  gloomy,  despondent,  and  generally  out  of  sorts. 
Ewing's  backsliding  had  annoyed  him,  and  the  possibility 
or  probability  of  Phil's  accuracy  of  information  and  judg 
ment  in  the  matter  of  Cousin  Sudie  and  Dr.  Harrison 
had  depressed  him  sorely.  When  he  found  himself  on 


82  A  MAN  OF  HONOR. 

the  back  of  this  magnificent  colt,  whose  delight  it  was  to 
carry  a  strong,  fearless  rider,  he  fell  immediately  into 
hearty  sympatly  with  the  high  spirits  and  bounding 
pulses  of  the  animal.  He  struck  out  into  a  gallop,  and 
in  an  instant  felt  himself  in  a  far  brighter  world  than 
that  which  he  had  been  traversing  ten  minutes  since. 
His  spirits  rose.  His  hopefulness  returned.  The  world 
became  better  and  the  future  more  promising.  Mr. 
Robert  Pagebrook  felt  the  unreasonable  but  thoroughly 
delightful  exhilaration  to  which  Billy  Barksdale  referred 
when  he  said,  "  Bob  is  the  happiest  fellow  in  the  .world  ; 
he  gets  glad  sometimes  just  because  he  is  alive."  That 
was  precisely  the  state  of  affairs.  Mr.  Robert  on  this 
high-mettled  hors"e  was  superlatively  alive,  and  was  glad 
because  of  it.  There  is  more  of  joy  than  many  people 
know  in  the  mere  act  of  living  ;  but  it  is  only  they  who 
have  clear  consciences,  springy  muscles,  and  perfect 
health  of  both  mind  and  body  who  fully  share  this  joy. 
Robert  Pagebrook  had  all  of  these,  and  was  astride  a  per 
fect  horse  to  boot ;  and  that,  as  all  horsemen  know,  is 
an  important  element  in  the  matter. 

He  galloped  on  toward  The  Oaks,  leaving  his  troubles 
just  where  he  mounted  his  horse.  He  forgot  Ewing's 
apostasy ;  he  forgot  Dr.  Harrison,  but  he  remembered 
Cousin  Sudie,  and  that  right  pleasantly  too.  Naturally 
enough,  being  on  horseback,  he  projected  himself  into  the 
future,  which  is  always  a  bright  world  when  one  is  gal 
loping  toward  it.  He  would  heartily  enjoy  the  coming 
fox-chase — particularly  on  such  an  animal  as  that  now 
under  him.  Then  his  thoughts  pushed  themselves  still 


OF  HOJSOR.  83 

further  forward,  and  lie  dreamed  dreams.  His  full  pro 
fessorship  would  pay  him  a  salary  sufficient  to  justify  him 
in  setting  up  a  little  establishment  of  his  own,  and  he 
should  then  know  what  it  was  to  have  a  home  in  which 
there  should  be  love  and  purity  and  peace  and  domestic 
comfort.  The  woman  who  was  to  form  the  center  of  all 
this  bliss  was  vaguely  undefined  as  to  identity  and  other 
details.  She  existed  only  in  outline,  in  the  picture,  but 
that  outline  strikingly  resembled  the  young  woman  who 
carried  the  key-basket  at  Shirley — an  accidental  resem 
blance,  of  course,  for  Mr.  Kobert  Pagebrook  was  positive 
that  he  was  not  in  love  with  Cousin  Sudie. 


84  A   MAtf   OF  HOKOE. 


CHAPTEE    XII, 

Mr.  Pagebrook  Dines  with  Ms  Cousin  Sarah  Ann. 

HOW  largely  Mr.  Eobert's  high  spirits  were  the  re 
sult  of  rapid  riding  on  a  good  horse,  and  how  far 
other  causes  aided  in  producing  them,  I  am  wholly  un 
prepared  to  say.  Whatever  their  cause  was  they  were 
not  destined  to  last  long  after  he  dismounted  at  The  Oaks. 
Indeed  his  day  at  that  country  seat  was  not  at  all  an 
agreeable  one.  His  cousin  Sarah  Ann  was  a  rather  de 
pressing  person  to  be  with  at  any  time,  and  there  were 
circumstances  which  made  her  especially  so  on  this  par 
ticular  occasion.  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  had  a  chronic  habit 
of  being  ostentatiously  sorry  for  herself,  which  was  very 
disagreeable  to  a  healthy  young  man  like  Eobert.  She 
nursed  and  cherished  her  griefs  as  if  they  had  been  her 
children,  and  like  children  they  grew  under  the  process. 
She  had  several  times  told  Eobert  how  lonely  she  was 
since  the  death  of  her  mother,  three  years  before,  and 
with  tears  in  her  eyes  she  had  complained  that  there  was 
nobody  to  love  her  now  that  poor  mother  was  gone — a 
statement  which  right-thinking  and  logical  Eobert  felt 
himself  almost  guilty  in  hearing  from  a  woman  with  a 


A   MAN   OF  HONOR.  85 

husband  and  a  house  full  of  children.  She  complained  a 
good  deal  of  her  poverty,  too,  a  complaining  which 
shocked  this  truthful  young  man,  knowing,  as  he  did, 
that  his  cousin  Edwin  was  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in 
the  country  round  about,  with  a  good  plantation  at  home, 
a  very  large  and  profitable  one  in  Mississippi,  twenty  or 
thirty  business  buildings,  well  leased,  in  Eichmond,  a 
surplus  of  money  in  bank,  and  no  debts  whatever,  which 
last  circumstance  served  to  make  him  almost  a  curiosity 
in  a  state  in  which  it  was  hardly  respectable  to  owe  no 
money.  She  complained,  too,  that  her  boys  were  dull 
and  her  girls  not  pretty,  both  of  which  complaints  were 
very  well  founded  indeed.  When  Robert  on  his  first  visit 
said  something  in  praise  of  her  comfortable  and  really 
pretty  house,  she  replied  : 

"  Oh  !  I  can't  pretend  to  live  in  an  aristocratic  house 
like  your  Aunt  Mary's.  I  didn't  inherit  a  (  family  man 
sion'  you  know,  and  so  we  had  to  build  this  house.  It 
hasn't  a  bit  of  wainscoting,  you  see,  and  no  old  pictures. 
I  reckon  I  a'n't  as  good  as  you  Pagebrooks,  and  somehow 
my  husband  a'n't  as  aristocratic  as  the  rest  of  you.  I 
reckon  he's  only  a  half-blood  Pagebrook,  and  that's  why 
he  condescended  to  marry  poor  me." 

This  was  Cousin  Sarah  Ann's  favorite  way  of  speak 
ing  of  herself,  and  she  said  "poor  me  "with  a  degree  of 
pathos  in  her  tone  which  always  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 

On  the  present  occasion,  as  I  have  said,  there  were  cir 
cumstances  which  enabled  this  estimable  lady  to  make 
herself  unusually  disagreeable.  She  had  a  fresh  affliction, 
and  so  she  reveled  in  an  ecstasy  of  woe.  It  was  her  ambi- 


86  A  MAN   OF   HONOR. 

tion  in  life  to  be  exceptionally  miserable,  and  accordingly 
she  welcomed  sorrow  with  a  keenness  of  relish  which  few 
people  can  possibly  know.  She  wouldn't  be  happy  in 
heaven,  Billy  Barksdale  said,  unless  she  could  convince 
people  there  that  she  was  snubbed  by  the  saints  and  put 
upon  by  the  angels. 

When  Robert  arrived  at  The  Oaks  that  morning  Major 
Pagebrook  met  him  at  the  gate,  according  to  custom,  but 
without  his  customary  cheerfulness  of  countenance.  He 
offered  no  explanation,  however,  and  Robert  asked  no 
questions.  The  two  went  into  the  parlor,  Robert  catch 
ing  sight  of  Ewing  in  the  orchard  back  of  the  house,  but 
having  no  opportunity  to  speak  to  the  young  man. 

Robert  had  not  been  in  the  parlor  many  minutes  before 
Major  Pagebrook  went  out  and  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  entered 
and  greeted  him  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  She 
made  one  or  two  ostentatious  efforts  to  control  herself, 
and  then  ostentatiously  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh  !  Cousin  Robert,  I  didn't  mean  to  betray  myself 
this  way.  But  I'm  so  miserable.  Ewing  has  been  led 
away  again  by  that  man,  Foggy  Raves." 

"  I  am  heartily  sorry  to  know  it,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann," 
replied  Robert.  "Did  he  lose  much  ?" 

"  0  Ewing  never  gambles  !  I  don't  mean  that.  Thank 
heaven  my  boy  never  plays  cards,  except  with  small  stakes 
for  amusement.  But  he  went  over  to  the  Court  House 
last  night  to  stay  with  Charley  Harrison,  and  they  went 
up  to  Foggy's  and  they  drank  a  little  too  much.  And 
now  Cousin  Edwin  (Mrs.  Pagebrook  always  called  her 
husband  Cousin  Edwin)  is  terribly  angry  about  it  and 


COUSIN    SARAH    ANN. 


87 


A  MAtf   OF  HOKOK.  89 

has  scolded  the  poor  boy  cruelly,  cruelly.  He  even 
threatened  to  cut  him  off  with  nothing  at  all  in  his  will, 
and  leave  the  poor  boy  to  starve.  Men  are  so  hard-hearted ! 
The  idea  that  I  should  live  to  hear  my  boy  talked  to  in 
that  way,  and  by  his  own  father  too,  almost  kills  me. 
Poor  me  !  there's  nobody  to  love  me  now." 

" Tell  me,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,"  said  Robert,  "for  I  am 
deeply  concerned  in  Swing's  behalf,  and  I  mean  to  reform 
him  if  I  can — does  he  often  get  drunk  ?  " 

"  Get  drunk  !  My  boy  never  gets  drunk  !  You  talk 
just  like  Cousin  Edwin.  He  only  drinks  a  little,  as  all 
young  gentlemen  do,  and  if  he  drinks  too  much  now  and 
then  I'm  sure  it  isn't  so  very  dreadful  as  you  all  make  it 
out.  I  don't  see  why  the  poor  boy  must  be  kept  down  all 
the  time  and  scolded  and  scolded  and  talked  about,  just 
because  he  does  like  other  people  ;  and  that's  what  dis 
tresses  me.  Cousin  Edwin  scolds  Ewing,  and  then  scolds 
me  for  taking  the  poor  boy's  part,  and  it's  more  than  I 
can  bear.  And  now  you  talk  about  '  reforming '  him  ! " 

Robert  explained  that  he  had  misunderstood  the  cause 
of  Cousin  Sarah  Ann?s  grief,  but  he  thought  it  would  be 
something  worse  than  useless  to  tell  her  that  she  was 
ruining  the  boy,  as  he  saw  clearly  enough  that  she  was. 
He  turned  the  conversation,  therefore,  and  Cousin  Sarah 
Ann  speedily  dried  her  eyes. 

"  You're  riding  Mr.  Winger's  horse,  I  see.  "What's 
become  of  Graybeard  ?  "  she  asked,  after  a  little  time. 

"He  is  a  little  lame  just  now.  Nothing  serious,  but  I 
thought  I  would  hire  Winger's  colt  until  he  gets  well." 

"Ah  !  I  understand.     The  rides  soon  in  the  morning 


90  A  MAIS'   OF   HOKOB. 

must  not  be  given  up  on  any  terms.  But  you'd  better 
look  out,  Cousin  Robert.  I'm  sorry  for  you  if  you  lose 
your  heart  there." 

"  Why,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  what  do  you  mean  ?  I 
really  am  not  sure  that  I  understand  you." 

"  Oh  !  I  say  nothing ;  but  those  rides  every  morning 
and  all  that  housekeeping  that  I've  heard  about,  are  dan 
gerous  things,  cousin.  I  was  a  belle  once  myself." 

It  was  one  of  Cousin  Sarah  Ann's  favorite  theories  that 
she  knew  all  about  bellehood,  having  been  a  belle  herself 
— though  nobody  else  ever  knew  anything  about  that  par 
ticular  part  of  her  career. 

"  "Well,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  I  do  not  think  I  have  lost 
my  heart,  as  you  phrase  it ;  but  pray  tell  me  why  you 
should  be  sorry  for  me  if  I  had  ?  " 

Mr.  Robert  was  at  first  about  to  declare  positively  that 
he  had  not  fallen  in  love  with  Cousin  Sudie,  but  just  at 
that  moment  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  possibly  be 
mistaken  about  the  matter,  and  being  thoroughly  truth 
ful  he  chose  the  less  positive  form  of  denial,  supplement 
ing  it,  as  we  have  seen,  with  a  question. 

"  Well,  for  several  reasons,"  replied  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  : 
"they  do  say  that  Charley  Harrison  is  before  you  there, 
and  anyhow,  it  would  never  do.  Sudie  hasn't  got  much, 
you  know.  Her  father  didn't  leave  her  anything  but  a 
few  hundred  dollars,  and  that's  all  spent  long  ago,  on  her 
clothes  and  schooling." 

Mr.  Robert  Pagebrook  certainly  did  not  wish  ill  to 
Cousin  Sudie,  and  yet  he  was  heartily  though  illogically 
glad  when  he  learned  tha-t  that  young  lady  was  poor. 


A   MAIN"   OF   HONOR.  91 

The  feeling  surprised  Mm,  but  lie  had  no  time  in  which 
to  analyze  it  just  then. 

"Why,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  you  certainly  do  not  think 
me  so  mercenary  as  your  remark  would  seem  to  indicate  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  it's  well  enough  to  talk  about  not  being  merce 
nary,  but  I  can  tell  you  that  some  money  on  one  side  or 
the  other  is  very  convenient.  I  know  by  experience  what 
it  is  to  be  poor.  I  might  have  married  rich  if  I'd  wanted 
to,  but  I  had  lofty  notions  like  you." 

The  reader  will  please  remember  that  I  am  no  more 
responsible  for  Mrs.  Pagebrook's  syntax  than  for  her  sins. 

"But,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,"  said  Kobert,  "you  would 
not  wish  one  to  marry  a  young  woman's  money  or  lands, 
would  you  ?  " 

"That's  only  your  romantic  way  of  putting  it.  I 
don't  see  why  you  can't  love  a  rich  girl  as  well  as  a  poor 
one,  for  my  part.  If  you  had  plenty  of  money  yourself 
it  wouldn't  matter ;  but  as  it  is  you  ought  to  marry  so 
as  to  hang  up  your  hat." 

"  I  confess  I  do  not  exactly  understand  your  figure  of 
speech,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  !  What  do  you  mean  by  hang 
ing  up  my  hat  ?  " 

" Didn't  you  ever  hear  that  before?  It's  a  common 
saying  here,  when  a  man  marries  a  girl  with  a  good  plan 
tation  and  a 'dead  daddy,' so  there  can't  be  any  doubt 
about  the  land  being  her's — they  say  he's  got  nothing  to 
do  but  walk  in  and  hang  up  his  hat." 

This  explanation  was  lucid  enough  without  doubt,  but 
it,  and  indeed  the  entire  conversation,  was  extremely  disa 
greeable  to  Eobert,  who  was  sufficiently  old-fashioned  to 


92  A  MA1T  OF  HOKOR. 

think  that  marriage  was  a  holy  thing,  and  he,  being  a 
man  of  good  taste,  disliked  to  hear  holy  things  lightly 
spoken  of.  He  was  relieved,  therefore,  by  Maj.  Page- 
brook's  entrance,  and  not  long  afterwards  he  was  invited 
to  go  up  to  the  blue-room,  the  way  to  which  he  knew  per 
fectly  well,  to  rest  awhile  before  dinner. 

In  the  blue-room  he  found  Ewing,  with  a  headache, 
lying  on  a  lounge.  The  youth  had  purposely  gone  thither, 
probably,  in  order  that  his  meeting  with  Eobert  might  be 
a  private  one,  for  meet  him  he  must,  as  he  very  well  knew, 
at  dinner  if  not  before. 

Robert  sat  down  by  him  and  held  his  head  as  tenderly 
as  a  woman  could  have  done,  and  speaking  gently  said  : 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  find  you  suffering,  Ewing.  You 
must  ride  with  me  after  dinner,  and  the  air  will  relieve 
your  head,  I  hope." 

The  boy  actually  burst  into  tears,  and  presently,  recov 
ering  from  the  paroxysm,  said  : 

"  I  didn't  expect  that,  Cousin  Robert.  Those  are  the 
first  kind  words  I've  heard  to-day.  Mother  has  called  me 
hard  names  all  the  morning." 

"Your  mother!"  exclaimed  Robert,  thrown  off  his 
guard  by  surprise,  for  he  would  never  have  thought  of 
questioning  the  boy  on  such  a  subject. 

"  0  yes  !  she  always  does.  If  she'd  ever  give  me  any 
credit  when  I  do  try  to  do  right,  I  reckon  I  would  try 
harder.  But  she  calls  me  a  drunkard  and  gambler  when 
ever  there  is  the  least  excuse  for  it ;  and  if  I  don't  do  any 
thing  wrong  she  says  I  am  pokey  and  a'n't  got  any  spirit. 
She  told  me  this  morning  she  didn't  mean  to  leave  me 


A  MAH   OF  HOKOR.  93 

anything  in  her  will,  because  I'd  squander  it.  You  know 
all  pa's  property  is  in  Aer  name  now.  I  got  mad  at  last 
and  told  her  I  knew  she  couldn't  keep  me  from  getting 
my  share,  because  nearly  half  of  everything  here  belonged 
to  Grandfather  Taylor  and  is  willed  to  us  children  when 
we  come  of  age.  She  didn't  know  I  knew  that,  and 
when  I  told  her " 

"  Come,  Ewing,  don't  talk  about  that.  You  have  no 
right  to  tell  me  such  things.  Bathe  your  head  now,  and 
hold  it  up  as  a  man  should.  You  are  responsible  to 
yourself  for  yourself,  and  it  is  your  duty  to  make  a  man 
of  yourself — such  a  man  as  you  need  not  be  ashamed  of. 
If  you  think  you  do  not  receive  the  recognition  you  ought 
for  your  efforts  to  do  well,  you  should  remember  that 
things  are  not  perfectly  adjusted  in  this  world,  so  far  at 
least  as  we  can  understand  them.  The  reward  of  manli 
ness  is  the  manliness  itself  ;  and  it  is  well  worth  living  for 
too,  even  though  nobody  recognizes  its  existence  but  your 
self.  Of  that,  however,  there  need  be  no  fear.  People 
will  know  you,  sooner  or  later,  precisely  as  you  are." 

Eobert  had  other  encouraging  things  to  say  to  the 
youth,  and  finally  said  : 

"Now,  Ewing,  I  shall  ask  you  to  make  no  promises 
which  you  may  not  be  strong  enough  to  keep  ;  but  if  you 
will  promise  me  to  make  an  earnest  effort  to  let  whisky 
and  cards  alone,  and  to  make  a  man  of  yourself,  refusing 
to  be  led  by  other  people,  I  will  talk  with  your  father  and 
get  him  to  agree  never  to  mention  the  past  again,  but 
to  aid  you  with  every  encouragement  in  his  power  for 
the  future." 


94  A   MAN   OF  HONOR. 

"  Why,  Cousin  Robert,  pa  never  says  anything  to  me. 
When  ma  scolds  he  just  goes  out  of  the  house,  and  he 
don't  come  in  again  till  he's  obliged  to.  It  a'n't  pa  at  all, 
it's  ma,  and  it  a'n't  any  use  to  talk  to  her.  I'll  be  of  age 
pretty  soon,  and  then  I  mean  to  take  my  share  of  grand 
pa's  estate,  and  put  it  into  money  and  go  clear  away  from 
here." 

Kobert  saw  that  it  would  be  idle  to  remonstrate  with 
the  young  man  at  present,  and  equally  idle  to  interfere 
with  the  domestic  governmental  system  practiced  by 
Cousin  Sarah  Ann.  He  devoted  himself,  therefore,  to 
the  task  of  getting  Ewing  to  bathe  his  head  ;  and  after  a 
little  time  the  two  went  down  to  dinner,  Ewing  thinking 
Kobert  the  only  real  friend  he  could  claim. 

His  head  aching  worse  after  dinner  than  before,  he  de 
clined  Robert's  invitation  to  go  to  Shirley,  and  our  friend 
rode  back  alone. 


A  MAN"  OF  HONOR.  95 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


Concerning  the  Rivulets  of  Blue  Blood. 


MR.  ROBERT  was  heartily  glad  to  get  away  from 
the  uncomfortable  presence  of  Cousin  Sarah  Ann, 
and  yet  it  can  not  be  said  that  our  young  gentleman  was 
buoyant  of  spirit  as  he  rode  from  The  Oaks  to  Shirley. 
Swing's  case  had  depressed  him,  and  Cousin  Sarah  Ann 
had  depressed  him  still  further.  His  confidence  in  woman 
nature  was  shaken.  His  ideas  on  the  subject  of  women 
had  been  for  the  most  part  evolved — wrought  out,  a 
priori)  from  his  mother  as  a  premise.  He  had  known 
all  the  time  that  not  every  woman  was  his  mother's  equal, 
if  indeed  any  woman  was ;  he  had  observed  that  some 
times  vanity  and  weakness  and  in  one  case,  as  we  know, 
faithlessness  entered  into  the  composition  of  women,  but 
he  had  never  conceived  of  such  a  compound  of  "  envy, 
hatred  and  malice,  and  all  uncharitableness  "  as  his  cousin 
Sarah  Ann  certainly  was;  and  as  he  applied  the  quotation 
mentally  he  was  constrained  also  to  utter  the  petition 
which  accompanies  it  in  the  litany — "  Good  Lord  deliver 
us ! "  This  woman  was  a  mystery  to  him.  She  not  only 


96  A   MAN   OF  HCWOR. 

shocked  but  she  puzzled  him.  How  anybody  could  con 
sent  to  be  just  such  a  person  as  she  was  was  wholly  in 
comprehensible.  Her  departures  from  the  right  line  of 
true  womanhood  were  so  entirely  purposeless  that  he 
could  trace  them  to  no  logical  starting-point.  He  could 
conceive  of  no  possible  training  or  experience  which  ought 
to  result  in  such  a  character  as  hers.  * 

After  puzzling  himself  over  this  human  problem  for 
half  an  hour  he  gave  it  up,  and  straightway  began  to  work 
at  another.  He  asked  himself  how  it  could  be  possible 
that  Cousin  Sudie  should  be  attracted  by  Dr.  Charley 
Harrison.  Possibly  the  reader  has  had  occasion  to  work 
at  a  similar  problem  in  his  time,  and  if  so  I  need  not  tell 
him  how  incapable  it  proved  of  solution.  Of  the  fact 
Eobert  was  now  convinced,  and  the  fact  annoyed  him. 
It  annoyed  him  too  that  he  could  not  account  for  the 
fact ;  and  then  it  annoyed  him  still  more  to  know  that  he 
could  be  annoyed  at  all  in  the  case,  for  he  was  perfectly 
sure — or  nearly  so — that  he  was  not  himself  in  love  with 
his  little  friend  at  Shirley.  And  yet  he  felt  a  strange 
yearning  to  battle  in  some  way  with  young  Harrison,  and 
to  conquer  him.  He  wanted  to  beat  the  man  at  some 
thing,  it  mattered  little  what,  and  to  triumph  over  him. 
But  he  did  not  allow  himself  even  mentally  to  formulate 
this  feeling.  If  he  had  he  would  have  discovered  its  in 
justice,  and  cast  it  from  him  as  unworthy.  His  instinct 
warned  him  of  this,  and  so  he  refused  to  put  his  wish  into 
form  lest  he  should  thereby  lose  the  opportunity  of  enter 
taining  it. 

With  thoughts  like  these  the  young  man  rode  home- 


A   MAN   OP   HONOR.  99 

wards,  and  naturally  enough  he  was  not  in  the  best  of 
humors  when  he  sat  down  in  the  parlor  at  Shirley. 

The  conversation,  in  some  inscrutable  way,  turned 
upon  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  and  Robert  so  far  forgot  himself 
as  to  express  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  that  lady  was 
in  no  way  akin  to  himself. 

"  But  she  is  kin  to  you,  Robert,"  said  Aunt  Catherine. 

' '  How  can  that  be,  Aunt  Catherine  ?  "  asked  the  young 
gentleman. 

"  Show  him  with  the  keys,  Aunt  Catherine,  show  him 
with  the  keys,"  said  Billy,  who  had  returned  from  court 
that  day.  "  Come,  Sudie,  where's  your  basket  ?  I  want 
to  see  if  Aunt  Catherine  can't  muddle  Bob's  head  as  badly 
as  she  does  mine  sometimes.  Here  are  the  keys.  Ex 
plain  it  to  him,  Aunt  Catherine,  and  if  he  knows  when 
you  get  through  whether  he  is  his  great  grandfather's 
nephew  or  his  uncle's  son  once  removed,  I'll  buy  his  skull 
for  tissue  paper  at  once.  A  skull  that  can  let  key-basket 
genealogy  through  it  a'n't  thick  enough  to  grow  hair  on." 

The  task  was  one  that  the  old  lady  loved,  and  so  with 
out  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  Billy's  bantering 
she  began  at  once  to  arrange  the  keys  from  Sudie's  bas 
ket  upon  the  floor  in  the  shape  of  a  complicated  genea 
logical  table.  "Now  my  child,"  said  she,  pointing  to 
the  great  key  at  top,  "the  smoke-house  key  is  your  great 
great  grandmother,  who  was  a  Pembroke.  The  Pem- 
brokes  were  always  considered " 

"Always  considered  smoke-house  keys  —  remember, 
Bob." 

"Will    you    keep   still,    William?      The    Pembrokes 


100  A   MAN   OF   HONOK. 

were  always  considered  an  excellent  family.  Now  your 
great  great  grandmother,  Matilda  Pembroke,  married 
John  Pemberton,  and  had  two  sons  and  one  daughter,  as 
you  see.  The  oldest  son,  Charles,  had  six  daughters,  and 
his  third  daughter  married  your  grandfather  Pagebrook, 
so  she  was  your  grandmother — the  store-room  key,  you 

"  See,  Bob,  what  it  is  to  be  well  connected,"  said  Billy; 
"your  own  dear  grandmother  was  a  store-room  key." 

"Hush,  Billy,  you  confuse  Robert." 

"  Ah  !  do  I  ?  I  only  wanted  him  to  remember  who  his 
grandmother  was. " 

"Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  "Matilda  Pemberton's 
daughter,  your  great  grand  aunt,  married  a  man  of  no 
family — a  carpenter  or  something — the  corn-house  key 
there." 

"  There  it  is,  Bob.  A'n't  you  glad  you  descended  from  a 
respectable  smoke-house  key,  through  an  aristocratic 
store-room  key,  instead  of  having  a  plebeian  corn-house 
key  in  the  way  ?  There's  nothing  like  blue  blood,  I  tell 
you,  and  ours  is  as  blue  as  an  indigo  bag ;  a'n't  it,  Aunt 
Catherine?" 

"  Will  you  never  learn,  Billy,  not  to  make  fun  of  your 
ancestors  ?  I  have  explained  to  you  a  hundred  times  how 
much  there  is  in  family.  Now  don't  interrupt  me  again. 
Let  ms  see,  where  was  I  ?  0  yes !  Your  great  grand 
aunt  married  a  carpenter,  and  his  daughter  Sarah  was 
your  second  cousin  if  you  count  removes,  fourth  cousin  if 
you  don't.  Now  Sarah  was  your  Cousin  Sarah  Ann's 
grandmother,  as  you  see;  so  Sarah  Ann  is  your  third 


^  .OE   HONOR.  101 


cousin  if  you  count  removes,  and  your  sixth  cousin  if 
you  don't.     Do  you  understand  it  now  ?" 

"  Of  course  he  does/'  said  Billy  ;  "  but  I  must  break  up 
the  family  now,  as  I  see  Polidore's  waiting  for  the  madam's 
great  grandfather,  to  wit,  the  corn-house  key.  Come 
Bob,  let's  go  up  to  the  stable  and  see  the  horses  fed." 


102  A  MAN   OF  HOtfOE, 


CHAPTER      XIV. 


Mr.  PagebrooTc  Manages  to  be  in  at  the  Death. 


NOT  many  days  after  Eobert's  uncomfortable  dinner 
at  The  Oaks,  a  servant  came  over  with  a  message 
from  Major  Pagebrook,  to  the  effect  that  a  grand  fox- 
chase  was  arranged  for  the  next  morning.  Foggy  and  Dr. 
Harrison  had  originated  it,  but  Major  Pagebrook's  and 
several  other  gentlemen's  hounds  would  run,  and  Ewing 
invited  his  cousins,  Eobert  and  Billy,  to  take  part  in  the 
sport.  Accordingly  our  two  young  gentlemen  ate  an 
early  breakfast  and  rode  over  to  that  part  of  The  Oaks 
plantation  known  as  ' '  Pine  quarter,"  where  the  first  fox 
hunt  of  the  season  was  always  begun.  They  arrived  not 
a  moment  too  soon,  and  found  the  hounds  just  breaking 
away  and  the  riders  galloping  after  them.  The  first  five 
miles  of  country  was  comparatively  open,  a  fact  which 
gave  the  fox  a  good  start  and  promised  to  make  the  chase 
a  long  and  a  rapid  one. 

Eobert  Pagebrook  had  never  seen  a  fox-chase,  and  his 
only  knowledge  of  the  sport  was  that  which  he  had 
gleaned  from  descriptions,  but  he  was  on  a  perfect  horse 


A   MAN   OF  HONOK.  103 

as  inexperienced  as  himself ;  lie  was  naturally  very  fear 
less  ;  he  was  intensely  excited,  and  it  was  his  habit  to  do 
whatever  he  believed  to  be  the  proper  thing  on  any  occa 
sion.  From  books  he  had  got  the  impression  that  the 
proper  thing  to  do  in  fox-hunting  was  to  ride  as  hard  as 
he  could  straight  after  the  hounds,  and  this  he  dil  with 
very  little  regard  for  consequences.  He  galloped  straight 
through  clumps  of  pine,  "  as  thick,"  Billy  said,  "as  the 
hair  on  Absalom's  head,"  while  others  rode  around  them. 
He  plunged  through  creek  "low  grounds"  without  a 
thought  of  possible  mires  or  quicksands.  He  knew  that 
fox-hunters  made  their  horses  jump  fences,  but  he  knew 
nothing  of  their  practice  in  the  matter  of  knocking  off 
top  rails  first,  and  accordingly  he  rode  straight  at  every 
fence  which  happened  to  stand  in  his  way,  and  forced  his 
horse  to  take  them  all  at  a  flying  leap. 

On  and  on  he  went,  straight  after  the  hounds,  his  pulse 
beating  high  and  his  brain  whirling  with  excitement. 
The  more  judicious  hunters  of  the  party  would  have  been 
left  far  behind  but  for  the  advantage  they  possessed  in 
their  knowledge  of  the  country  and  their  consequent 
ability  to  anticipate  the  fox's  turnings,  and  to  save  dis 
tance  and  avoid  difficulties  by  following  short  cuts.  Rob 
ert  rode  right  after  the  hounds  always. 

"  That  coiisin  of  yours  is  crazy,"  said  one  gentleman 
to  Billy;  "but  what  a  magnificent  rider  he  is." 

"Why  don't  you  stop  your  cousin  ?"  asked  another, 
"he'll  kill  himself,  to  a  certainty,  if  you  don't." 

"01  will  ! "  replied  Billy,  "  and  I'll  remonstrate  with 
all  the  streaks  of  lightning  I  happen  to  overtake,  too. 


104  A   MAN   OF   HONOB. 

I'm  sure  to  catch  a  good  many  of  them  before  I  come  up 
with  him." 

The  fox  "  doubled  "  very  little  now,  and  it  became  evi 
dent  that  he  was  making  for  the  Appomattox  River,  but 
whether  he  would  cross  it  or  double  and  run  back  was 

« 

uncertain.  Billy  earnestly  hoped  he  would  double,  as 
that  might  enable  him  to  see  Robert  and  check  his  mad 
riding,  if  indeed  that  gentleman  should  manage  to  reach 
the  river  with  an  unbroken  neck. 

On  and  on  they  went,  fox  running  for  dear  life,  hounds 
in  perfect  trim  and  full  cry,  and  riders  each  bent  upon 
"  taking  the  tail "  if  possible.  Robert  remained  in  ad 
vance  of  all  the  rest,  jumping  every  fence  over  which  he 
could  force  his  horse,  and  making  the  animal  knock  down 
those  which  he  could  not  leap.  His  horse  blundered  at  a 
ditch  once  and  fell,  but  recovered  himself  with  his  rider 
still  erect  in  the  saddle,  before  anybody  had  time  to  won 
der  whether  his  neck  was  broken  or  not.  Billy  now  saw  a 
new  danger  ahead  of  his  cousin.  They  were  nearing  the 
river,  and  the  fox,  an  old  red  one,  who  knew  his  business, 
was  evidently  running  for  a  crossing  place  where  mire  and 
quicksands  abounded.  Of  this  Robert  knew  nothing,  and 
after  his  performances  thus  far  there  was  no  reason  to 
hope  that  any  late-coming  caution  would  save  him  now. 
A  thicket  of  young  oaks  lay  just  ahead,  and  the  hounds 
going  through  it  Robert  followed  quite  as  a  matter  of 
course.  Billy  saw  here  his  chance,  and  putting  spurs  to 
his  horse  he  rode  at  full  speed  around  the  end  of  the 
thicket,  hoping  to  reach  the  other  side  in  time  to  inter 
cept  his  cousin,  in  whose  behalf  he  was  now  really 


A   HAN   OF  HONOK.  105 

alarmed.  As  he  swept  by  the  end  of  the  thicket,  how 
ever,  he  passed  two  gentlemen  whom  he  could  not  see 
through  the  bushes,  but  whose  voices  he  knew  very  well. 
They  were  none  other  than  Mr.  Foggy  Eaves  and  Dr. 
Charles  Harrison,  and  Billy  heard  what  they  were  saying. 

(f  You  must  take  the  tail,  Charley,  and  not  let  that 
city  snob  get  it.  The  fool  rides  like  Death  on  the  pale 
horse,  and  don't  seem  to  know  there  ever  was  a  fence  too 
high  to  jump.  He'd  try  to  take  the  Blue  Ridge  at  a  fly 
ing  leap  if  it  got  in  his  way.  I'd  rather  kill  a  dozen 
horses  than  let  him  beat  us.  He  put  his  finger  into  our 
little  game  with  that  saphead  Ewing,  and " 

"  But  my  horse  is  thumped  now,  Foggy." 

"  Well,  take  mine  then.  He's  fresh.  I  sent  him  over 
last  night  to  meet  me  here,  and  I  just  now  changed.  I've 
hurt  my  knee  and  can't  ride.  Take,  my  horse  and  ride 
him  to  death  but  what  you  beat  that " 

This  was  all  that  Billy  had  time  to  hear,  but  it  was 
enough  to  change  his  entire  purpose.  He  no  longer 
thought  of  Robert's  neck,  but  hurried  on  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  spurring  his  cousin  up  to  new  exertion.  He 
reached  the  edge  of  the  thicket  just  as  Robert  came  out 
bareheaded,  having  lost  his  hat  in  the  brush.  His  face 
was  bleeding,  too,  from  scratches  and  bruises  received  in 
the  struggle  through  the  oak  thicket.  The  river  was 
just  ahead,  but  the  fox  doubled  to  the  right  instead  of 
crossing. 

"  Come,  Bob,"  said  Billy,  "  you've  got  to  take  the  tail 
to-day  or  die.  Foggy  and  Charley  Harrison  have  been 
setting  up  a  game  on  you,  and  Charley  has  a  fresh  horse, 


106  A   MAtf   OF  HOKOR. 

borrowed  from  Foggy  on  purpose  to  beat  you.  But  this 
double  gives  you  a  quarter  start  of  him.  Don't  run  your 
horse  up  hills,  or  you'll  blow  him  out,  and  shy  off  from 
such  thickets  as  that.  You  can  ride  round  quicker  than 
you  can  go  through.  Don't  break  your  KECK,  BUT  TAKE 
THE  TAIL  ANYHOW. 

He  fairly  yelled  the  last  words  at  Robert,  who  was  al 
ready  a  hundred  yards  ahead  of  him  and  getting  further 
off  every  second. 

The  effect  of  his  words  on  his  cousin  was  not  precisely 
what  might  have  been  expected.  Before  this  Robert  had 
been  intensely  excited  and  had  enjoyed  being  so,  but  his 
excitement  had  been  the  result  of  his  high  spirits  and 
his  keen  zest  for  the  sport  in  which  he  was  engaged.  He 
had  astonished  everybody  by  the  utter  recklessness  of  his 
riding,  but  had  not  shared  at  all  in  their  astonishment 
or  known  that  his  riding  was  reckless.  He  had  ridden 
hard  simply  because  he  thought  that  the  proper  thing  to 
do  and  because  he  enjoyed  doing  it.  He  rode  now  for 
victory.  His  features  lost  the  look  of  wild  enjoyment 
which  they  had  worn,  and  settled  themselves  into  a  firm, 
hard  expression  of  dogged  determination.  Here  was  his 
opportunity  to  do  battle  with  young  Harrison ;  and  from 
Billy's  manner,  rather  than  from  his  words,  he  knew  that 
the  contest  was  not  one  of  generous  rivalry  on  Harrison's 
part.  He  felt  that  there  was  a  contemptuous  sneer  some 
where  back  of  Billy's  words,  and  the  thought  nettled  him 
sorely.  But  he  did  not  lose  his  head  in  the  excitement. 
On  the  contrary,  he  felt  the  necessity  now  for  care  and 
coolness,  and  accordingly  he  immediately  took  pains  to 


A   MAN   OF  HONOR.  107 

become  both  cool  and  careful.  He  knew  that  Harrison 
had  an  advantage  in  knowing  the  country,  and  he  re 
solved  to  share  that  advantage.  To  this  end  he  brought 
his  horse  down  to  an  easy  canter  and  waited  for  Harrison 
to  come  up.  He  then  kept  his  eye  constantly  on  his 
rival  and  used  him  as  a  guide.  When  Harrison  avoided  a 
thicket  he  avoided  it  also.  If  Harrison  left  the  track  of 
the  hounds  for  the  sake  of  cutting  off  an  angle,  Kobert 
kept  by  his  side.  This  angered  Harrison,  who  had 
counted  confidently  upon  having  an  advantage  in  these 
matters,  and  under  the  influence  of  his  anger  he  spurred 
his  horse  unnecessarily  and  soon  took  a  good  deal  of  his 
freshness  out  of  him. 

The  two  rode  on  almost  side  by  side  for  miles.  The 
fox  was  beginning  to  show  his  fatigue,  and  it  was  evident 
that  the  chase  would  soon  end.  Both  the  foremost  riders 
discovered  this,  and  both  put  forth  every  possible  exertion 
to  win.  Just  ahead  of  them  lay  a  very  dense  thicket 
through  which  ran  a  narrow  bridle-path  barely  wide 
enough  for  one  horse,  as  Eobert  knew,  for  the  thicket  lay 
on  Shirley  plantation,  the  fox  having  run  back  almost 
immediately  over  his  own  track.  It  was  evident  now  that 
(<  the  catch "  would  occur  in  the  field  just  beyond  this 
thicket,  and  it  was  equally  evident  that  as  the  two  could 
not  possibly  ride  abreast  along  the  bridle-path,  the  one 
who  could  first  put  his  horse  into  it  would  almost  cer 
tainly  be  first  in  at  the  death.  They  rode  like  madmen, 
but  Eobert's  horse  was  greatly  fatigued  and  Harrison  shot 
ahead  of  him  by  a  single  length  into  the  path.  There  was 
hardly  a  chance  for  Eobert  now,  as  it  was  impossible  in 


108  A   MAH   OF   HONOR. 

any  case  for  him  to  pass  his  rival  in  the  thicket,  and  he 
could  see  that  the  dogs  had  already  caught  the  fox  in  the 
field,  less  than  a  rod  beyond  its  edge. 

"  I've  got  you  now,  I  reckon,"  shouted  Harrison  look 
ing  back,  but  at  the  moment  his  horse  stumbled  and  fell. 
Eobert  could  no  more  stop  his  own  horse  than  he  could 
have  stopped  a  hurricane,  and  the  animal  fell  heavily 
over  Harrison,  throwing  Kobert  about  ten  feet  beyond 
and  almost  among  the  dogs.  Getting  up  he  ran  in 
among  the  bellowing  hounds  and,  catching  the  fox  in  his 
hand,  he  held  him  up  in  full  view  of  the  other  gentlemen, 
now  riding  into  the  field  from  different'  directions  and 
cheering  as  lustily  as  possible. 


A  HAtf   OF  HOKOH.  100 


CHAPTER    XV. 


Some  very  Unreasonable  Conduct. 


QUITE  naturally  Robert  was  elated  as  he  stood  there 
bare-headed,  and  received  the  congratulations  of 
his  companions,  who  had  now  come  up  and  gathered 
around  him.  Loudest  among  them  was  Foggy,  who 
leaping  from  his  horse  cried  out : 

"By  Jove,  Mr.  Pagebrook,  I  must  shake  your  hand.  I 
never  saw  prettier  riding  in  my  life,  and  Pve  seen  some 
good  riding  too  in  my  time.  But  where's  your  horse  ? 
Did  you  turn  him  loose  when  you  jumped  off  ?" 

This  served  to  remind  Robert  of  the  animal  and  of 
Harrison  too,  and  going  hastily  into  the  thicket  he  found 
the  Doctor  repairing  his  girth,  which  had  been  broken  in 
the  fall.  The  Doctor  was  not  hurt,  nor  was  his  horse 
injured  in  any  way,  but  the  black  colt  which  had  carried 
Robert  so  gallantly  lay  dead  upon  the  ground.  An  exam 
ination  showed  that  in  falling  he  had  broken  his  neck. 

It  was  not  far  that  our  young  friend  had  to  walk  to 
reach  Shirley,  but  a  weariness  which  he  had  not  felt  be 
fore  crept  over  him  as  he  walked.  His  head  ached  sorely, 


110  A  MAN   OF  HONOR. 

and  as  the  excitement  died  away  it  was  succeeded  by  a 
numbness  of  despondency,  the  like  of  which  he  had 
never  known  before.  He  had  declined  to  "  ride  and  tie" 
with  Billy,  thinking  the  task  a  small  one  to  walk  through 
by  a  woods  path  to  the  house,  while  Billy  followed  the 
main  road.  With  his  first  feeling  of  despondency  came 
bitter  mortification  at  the  thought  that  he  had  allowed  so 
small  a  thing  as  a  fox-chase  to  so  excite  him.  The  exer 
tion  had  been  well  enough,  but  he  felt  that  the  object  in 
view  during  the  latter  half  of  the  chase,  namely,  the  defeat 
of  young  Harrison,  was  one  wholly  unworthy  of  him,  and 
the  color  came  to  his  cheek  as  he  thought  of  the  energy 
he  had  wasted  on  so  small  an  undertaking.  Then  he 
remembered  the  gallant  animal  sacrificed  in  the  blind 
struggle  for  mere  victory,  and  he  could  hardly  force  the 
tears  back  as  the  thought  came  to  him  in  full  force  that 
the  nostrils  which  had  quivered  with  excitement  so  short 
a  time  since,  would  snuff  the  air  no  more  forever.  He 
felt  guilty,  almost  of  murder,  and  savagely  rejoiced  to 
know  that  the  death  of  the  horse  would  entail  a  pecun 
iary  loss  upon  himself,  which  would  in  some  sense  avenge 
the  wrong  done  to  the  noble  brute. 

The  numbness  and  weariness  oppressed  him  so  that  he 
sat  down  at  the  root  of  a  tree,  and  remained  there  in  a 
state  of  half  unconsciousness  until  Billy  came  from  the 
house  to  look  for  him.  Arrived  at  the  house  he  went 
immediately  to  bed  and  into  a  fever  which  prostrated  him 
for  nearly  a  week,  during  which  time  he  was  not  allowed 
to  talk  much  ;  in  point  of  fact  he  was  not  inclined  to  talk 
at  all,  except  to  Cousin  Sudie,  who  moved  quietly  in  and 


A  MAK  OF  HOtfOK.  Ill 

out  of  the  room  as  occasion  required  and  came  to  sit  by  his 
bedside  frequently,  after  Billy  and  Col.  Barksdale  quitted 
home  again  to  attend  court  in  another  of  the  adjoining 
counties,  as  they  did  as  soon  as  Kobert's  physician  pro 
nounced  him  out  of  danger.  -  At  first  Cousin  Sudie  was 
disposed  to  enforce  the  doctor's  orders  in  regard  to  silence; 
but  she  soon  discovered,  quick-witted  girl  that  she  was, 
that  her  talking  soothed  and  quieted  the  patient,  and  so 
she  talked  to  him  in  a  soft,  quiet  voice,,  securing,  by 
violating  the  doctor's  injunction,  precisely  the  result 
which  the  injunction  was  intended  to  secure,  As  soon 
as  the  fever  quitted  him  Eobert  began  to  recover  very 
rapidly,  but  he  was  greatly  troubled  about  the  still 
unpaid-for  horse. 

Now  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  Cousin  Sudie  had  no 
money  at  command,  and  he  ought  to  have  known  that  it 
was  a  very  unreasonable  proceeding  upon  his  part  to  con 
sult  her  in  the  matter.  But  love  laughs  at  logic  as  well 
as  at  locksmiths,  and  so  our  logical  young  man  very 
illogically  concluded  that  the  best  thing  to  do  in  the 
premises  was  to  consult  Cousin  Sudie. 

"  I  am  in  trouble,  Cousin  Sudie,"  said  he,  as  he  sat 
with  her  in  the  parlor  one  evening,  "  about  that  horse. 
I  know  Mr.  Winger  is  a  poor  man,  and  I  ought  to  pay 
him  at  once,  but  the  truth  is  I  have  hardly  any  money 
with  me,  and  there  is  no  bank  nearer  than  Richmond 
at  which  to  get  a  draft  cashed." 

"You  have  money  enough,  then,  somewhere  ?"  asked 
Cousin  Sudie. 

"0  yes,!   I  have  money  in  bank  in  Philadelphia,  but 


112  A   MAN   OF   HONOR. 

Winger  has  already  sent  me  a  note  asking  immediate  pay 
ment,  and  telling  me  lie  is  sorely  pressed  for  money  ;  and 
I  dislike  exceedingly  to  ask  his  forbearance  even  for  a 
week,  under  the  circumstances." 

"Why  can't  you  get  Cousin  Edwin  to  cash  a  check  for 
you  ?"  asked  the  business-like  little  woman  ;  "he  always 
has  money,  and  will  do  it  gladly,  I  know." 

"  That  had  not  occurred  to  me,  but  it  is  a  good  sugges 
tion.  If  you  will  lend  me  your  writing-desk  I  will  write 
and-  -" 

"  Ah,  there  comes  Cousin  Edwin  now,  and  Ewing  too, 
to  see  you,"  said  Miss  Sudie,  hearing  their  voices  in  the 
porch. 

The  visitors  came  into  the  parlor,  and  after  a  little 
while  Sudie  withdrew,  intent  upon  some  household  mat 
ter.  Ewing  followed  hej.  Robert  spoke  frankly  of  his 
wish  to  pay  Winger  promptly,  and  asked  : 

"  Can  you  cash  my  check  on  Philadelphia  for  me, 
Cousin  Edwin,  for  three  hundred  dollars  ?  Don't  think 
of  doing  it,  pray,  if  it  is  not  perfectly  convenient." 

"  0  it  isn't  inconvenient  at  aU,"  said  Major  Pagebrook. 
"  I  have  more  money  at  home  than  I  like  to  keep  there, 
and  I  can  let  you  have  the  amount  and  send  your  check  to 
the  bank  in  Richmond  and  have  it  credited  to  me  quite 
as  well  as  not.  In  fact  I'd  rather  do  it  than  not,  as  it'll 
save  expressage  on  money." 

Accordingly  Robert  drew  a  check  for  three  hundred 
dollars  on  'his  bankers  in  Philadelphia,  making  it  payable 
to  Major  Pagebrook,  and  that  gentleman  undertook  to 
pay  the  amount  that  evening  to  Winger.  Shortly  after 


A   MAtf   OE   HONOR.  113 

this  business  matter  had  been  settled,  Ewing  and  Miss 
Sudie  returned  to  the  parlor  and  the  callers  took  their 
departure. 

Eobert  and  Sudie  sat  silent  for  some  time  watching  the 
flicker  of  the  fire,  for  the  days  were  cool  now  and  fires 
were  necessary  to  in-door  comfort.  How  long  their  si 
lence  might  have  continued  but  for  an  interruption,  I  do 
not  know  ;  but  an  interruption  came  in  the  breaking  of 
the  forestick,  which  had  burned  in  two.  A  broken  rev 
erie  may  sometimes  be  resumed,  but  a  pair  of  broken  rev 
eries  never  are.  Had  Mr.  Eobert  been  alone  he  would 
have  rearranged  the  fire  and  then  sat  down  to  his 
thoughts  again.  As  it  was  he  rearranged  the  fire  and 
then  began  to  talk  with  Miss  Sudie. 

"I  am  glad  to  get  that  business  off  my  hands.  It 
worried  me,"  he  said. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  his  companion,  "very  glad  indeed." 

There  must  have  been  something  in  her  tone,  as  there 
was  certainly  nothing  in  her  words,  which  led  Mr.  Page- 
brook  to  think  that  this  young  lady's  remark  had  an 
unexpressed  meaning  back  of  it.  He  therefore  question 
ed  her. 

"  Why,  Cousin  Sudie  ?  had  it  been  troubling  you  too  ?" 

"  No ;  but  it  would  have  done  so,  I  reckon." 

"I  do  not  understand  you.  Surely  you  never  doubted 
that  I  would  pay  -for  the  horse,  did  you  ?  " 

"No  indeed,  but—" 

"  What  is  it  Cousin  Sudie  ?  tell  me  what  there  is  in 
your  mind.  I  shall  feel  hurt  if  you  do  not. " 

"  I  ought  not  to  tell  you,  but  I  must  now,  or  you  will 


114  A   MAIN"    OF   HOiJOR. 

imagine  uncomfortable  things.      I  know  why  Mr.  Winger 
wrote  you  that  note." 

"  You  know  why  ?  There  was  some  reason  then  be 
sides  his  need  of  money  ?" 

"He  was  not  pressed  for  the  money  at  all.  That 
wasn't  the  reason." 

"  You  surprise  me,  Cousin  Sudie.  Pray  tell  me  what 
you  know,  and  how." 

"Well,  promise  me  first  that  you  won't  get  yourself 
into  any  trouble  about  it — no,  I  have  no  right  to  exact  a 
blind  promise— but  do  don't  get  into  trouble.  That  detest 
able  man,  Foggy  Eaves,  made  Mr.  Winger  uneasy  about 
the  money.  He  told  him  you  were  'hard  up'  and 
couldn't  pay  if  you  wanted  to  ;  and  I'm  glad  you  have 
paid  him,  a,nd  I'm  glad  you  beat  Charley  Harrison  in  the 
fox-chase,  too." 

With  this  utterly  inconsequent  conclusion,  Cousin 
Sudie  commenced  rocking  violently  in  her  chair. 

"How  do  you  know  all  this,  Cousin  Sudie?"  asked 
Robert. 

"Ewing  told  me  this  evening.  I'd  rather  you'd  have 
killed  a  dozen  horses  than  to  have  had  Charley  Harrison 
beat  you." 

"  Why,  Cousin  Sudie  ?  " 

"  0  he's  at  the  bottom  of  all  this.  He  always  is. 
Foggy  is  his  mouth-piece.  And  then  he  told  Aunt  Cath 
erine,  the  day  you  went  to  The  Oaks,  that  he  t  meant  to 
have  some  fun  when  he  got  you  into  a  fox-hunt  on  Win- 
ger's  colt.'  He  said  you'd  find  out  how  much  your  hand 
some  city  riding-school  style  was  worth  when  you  got 


MISS  SUDIE  DECLAEES  HERSELF  "  SO  GLAD. 


116 


A   MAJsT   OF   HONOR.  117 

on  a  horse  you  were  afraid  of.  I'm  so  glad  you  beat 
him  I" 

Now  it  would  seem  that  Cousin  Sadie's  rejoicing  must 
have  been  of  a  singular  sort,  as  she  very  unreasonably 
burst  into  tears  while  in  the  very  act  of  declaring  herself 
glad. 

Mr.  Robert  Pagebrook  was  wholly  unused  to  the  task 
of  soothing  a  woman  in  tears.  It  was  his  habit,  under 
all  circumstances,  to  do  the  thing  proper  to  be  done,  but 
of  what  the  proper  thing  was  for  a  man  to  do  or  say  to  a 
woman  in  tears  without  apparent  cause,  Mr.  Robert 
Pagebrook  had  not  the  faintest  conception,  and  so  he 
very  unreasonably  proceeded  to  take  her  hand  in  his  and 
to  tell  her  that  he  loved  her,  a  fact  which  he  himself  just 
then  discovered  for  the  first  time. 

Before  he  could  add  a  word  to  the  blunt  declaration, 
Dick  thrust  his  black  head  into  the  door-way  with  the 
announcement,  "  Supper's  ready,  Miss  Sudie." 


118  A   MA3T   OF  HONOR. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

What  Occurred  Next  Morning. 

reader  thinks,  doubtless,  that  Master  Dick's  en- 
I  trance  at  the  precise  time  indicated  in  the  last  chap 
ter  was  an  unfortunate  occurrence,  and  I  presume  Mr. 
Pagebrook  was  of  a  like  opinion  at  the  moment.  But  ma- 
turer  reflection  convinced  him  that  the  interruption  was 
a  peculiarly  opportune  one.  He  was  a  conscientious 
young  man,  and  was  particularly  punctilious  in  matters 
of  honor ;  wherefore,  had  he  been  allowed  to  complete  the 
conversation  thus  unpremeditatedly  begun,  without  an 
opportunity  to  deliberate  upon  the  things  to  be  said,  he 
would  almost  certainly  have  suffered  at  the  hands  of  his 
conscience  in  consequence.  There  were  circumstances 
which  made  some  explanations  on  his  part  necessary,  and 
he  knew  perfectly  well  that  these  explanations  would  not 
have  been  properly  made  if  Master  Dick's  interruption 
had  not  come  to  give  him  time  for  reflection. 

All  this  he  thought  as  he  drank  his  tea;  for  when  sup 
per  was  announced  both  he  and  Miss  Sudie  went  into  the 
dining-room  precisely  as  if  their  talk  in  the  parlor  had 
been  of  no  unusual  character.  This  they  did  because 


A   MAN    OF   HONOR.  119 

they  were  creatures  of  habit,  as  you  and  I  and  all  the 
rest  of  mankind  are.  They  were  in  the  habit  of  going  to 
supper  when  it  was  ready,  and  it  never  entered  the 
thought  of  either  to  act  differently  on  this  particular  oc 
casion.  Miss  Sudie,  it  is  true,  ran  up  to  her  room  for  a 
moment — to  brush  her  hair  I  presume — before  she  entered 
the  dining-room,  but  otherwise  they  both  acted  very 
much  as  they  always  did,  except  that  Eobert  addressed 
almost  the  whole  of  his  conversation  during  the  meal  to 
his  Aunt  Mary  and  Aunt  Catherine,  while  Miss  Sudie, 
sitting  there  behind  the  tea-tray,  said  nothing  at  all. 
After  tea  the  older  ladies  sat  with  Eobert  and  Sudie  in 
the  parlor,  until  the  early  bed-time  prescribed  for  the 
convalescent  young  gentleman  arrived. 

It  thus  happened  that  there  was  no  opportunity  for  the 
resumption  of  the  interesting  conversation  interrupted 
by  Dick,  until  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  next  day. 
Miss  Sudie,  it  seems,  found  it  necessary  to  go  into  the 
garden  to  inspect  some  late  horticultural  operations,  and 
Mr.  Robert,  quite  accidentally,  followed  her.  They  dis 
cussed  matters  with  Uncle  Joe,  the  gardener,  for  a  time, 
and  then  wandered  off  toward  a  summer-house,  where  it 
was  pleasant  to  sit  in  the  soft  November  sunlight. 

The  conversation  which  followed  was  an  interesting 
one,  of  course.  Let  us  listen  to  it. 

"The  vines  are  all  killed  by  the  frost,"  said  Cousin 
Sudie. 

"  Yes ;  you  have  frosts  here  earlier  than  I  thought," 
said  Robert. 

"  0  we  always  expect  frost  about  the  tenth  of  October; 


120  A    MAX    OF   HOXOR. 

at  least  the  gentlemen  never  feel  safe  if  their  tobacco  isn't 
cut  by  that  time.  This  year  frost  was  late  for  us,  but  the 
nights  are  getting  very  cool  now,  a'n't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  found  blankets  very  comfortable  even  before 
the  tenth  of  October." 

"  It's  lucky  then  that  you  wa'n't  staying  with  Aunt 
Polly  Barksdale." 

"  Why  ?  and  who  is  your  Aunt  Polly  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Polly  ?  Why  she  is  Uncle  Charles's  widow.  She 
is  the  model  for  the  whole  connection  ;  and  I've  had  her 
held  up  to  me  as  a  pattern  ever  since  I  can  remember, 
but  I  never  saw  her  till  about  a  year  ago,  when  she  came 
and  staid  a  week  or  two  with  us  ;  and  between  ourselves 
I  think  she  is  the  most  disagreeably  good  person  I  ever 
saw.  She  is  good,  but  somehow  she  makes  me  wicked, 
and  I  don't  think  I'm  naturally  so.  I  didn't  read  my 
Bible  once  while  she  staid,  and  I  do  love  to  read  it.  I 
suppose  I  shall  like  to  have  her  with  me  in  heaven,  if  I 
get  there,  because  there  I  won't  have  anything  for  her  to 
help  me  about,  but  here  '  I'm  better  midout '  her." 

"  I  quite  understand  your  feeling  ;  but  you  haven't  told 
me  why  I'm  lucky  not  to  have  her  for  my  hostess  these 
cold  nights." 

"  0  you'd  be  comfortable  enough  now  that  tobacco  is 
cut ;  but  when  Cousin  Billy  staid  with  her,  a  good  many 
years  ago,  he  used  to  complain  of  being  cold — he  was 
only  a  boy — and  ask  her  for  blankets,  and  she  would  hold 
up  her  hands  and  exclaim  :  '  Why,  child,  your  uncle's  to 
bacco  isn't  cut  yet !  It  will  never  do  to  say  it's  cold 
enough  for  blankets  when  your  poor  uncle  hasn't  got  his 


A   MAN   OF   HONOK.  121 

tobacco  cut.  Think  of  your  uncle,  child !  he  can't  af 
ford  to  have  his  tobacco  all  killed.'  But  come,  Cousin 
Robert,  you  mustn't  sit  here  ;  besides  I  want  to  show  you 
an  experiment  I  am  trying  with  winter  cabbage." 

This,  I  believe,  is  a  faithful  report  of  what  passed  be 
tween  Eobert  and  Sudie  in  the  summer-house.  I  am 
very  well  aware  that  they  ought  to  have  talked  of  other 
things,  but  they  did  not ;  and,  as  a  faithful  chronicler,  I 
can  only  state  the  facts  as  they  occurred,  begging  the 
reader  to  remember  that  I  am  in  no  way  responsible  for 
the  conduct  of  these  young  people. 

The  cabbage  experiment  duly  explained  and  admired, 
Mr.  Robert  and  Miss  Sudie  walked  out  of  the  garden  and 
into  the  house.  There  they  found  themselves  alone 
again,  and  Robert  plunged  at  once  into  the  matter  of 
which  both  had  been  thinking  all  the  time. 

"Cousin  Sudie,"  he  said,  "have  you  thought  about 
what  I  said  to  you  last  night  ?  " 

«  Yes— a  little." 

"  I  will  not  ask  you  just  yet  what  you  have  thought, " 
said  Robert,  taking  her  unresisting  hand  into  his, 
"because  there  are  some  explanations  which  I  am  in 
honor  bound  to  make  to  you  before  asking  you  to  give 
me  an  answer,  one  way  or  the  other.  When  I  told  you 
I  loved  you,  of  course  I  meant  to  ask  you  to  be  my  wife, 
but  that  I  must  not  ask  you  until  you  know  exactly  what 
I  am.  I  want  you  to  know  precisely  what  it  is  that  I  ask 
you  to  do.  I  am  a  poor  man,  as  you  know.  I  have  a 
good  position,  however,  with  a  salary  of  two  thousand 
.dollars  a  year,  and  that  is  more  than  sufficient  for  the 


122  A   MAX   OF  HONOR. 

support  of  a  family,  particularly  in  an  inexpensive  college 
town  ;  so  that  there  is  room  for  a  little  constant  accumula 
tion.  If  I  marry,  I  shall  insure  my  life  for  ten  thousand 
dollars,  so  that  my  death  shall  not  leave  my  wife  desti 
tute.  I  have  a  very  small  reserve  fund  in  bank  too — 
thirteen  hundred  dollars  now,  since  I  paid  for  that  horse. 
And  there  is  still  three  hundred  dollars  due  me  for  last 
year's  work.  These  are  my  means  and  my  prospects,  and 
now  I  tell  you  again,  Sudie,  that  I  love  you,  and  I  ask 
you  bluntly  will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

The  young  lady  said  nothing. 

"  If  you  wish  for  time  to  think  about  it  Sudie — " 

"I  suppose  that  would  be  the  proper  way,  according 
to  custom;  but,  "raising  her  eyes  fearlessly  to  his,  "I  have 
already  made  up  my  mind,  and  I  do  not  want  to  act  a 
falsehood.  There  is  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  I  suppose, 
in  frankly  loving  such  a  man  as  you,  Robert.  I  will  be 
your  wife." 

The  little  woman  felt  wonderfully  brave  just  then,  and 
accordingly,  without  further  ado,  she  commenced  to  cry. 

The  reader  would  be  very  ill-mannered  indeed  should 
he  listen  further  to  a  conversation  which  was  wholly 
private  and  confidential  in  its  character ;  wherefore  let  us 
close  our  ears  and  the  chapter  at  once. 


A    MAN"    OF   HO^OR. 


CHAPTEE      XVII. 


In  which  Mr.  Pagelrook  Bids  Ms  Friends  Good-ly. 


THE  next  two  or  three  days  passed  away  very  quickly 
with  Mr.  Robert  and  Miss  Sudie.  Robert  made  to 
his  aunt  a  statement  of  the  results,  without  entering  into 
the  details  of  his  conferences  with  Miss  Sudie,  and  was 
assured  of  Col.  Barksdale's  approval  when  that  gentleman 
and  Billy  should  return  from  the  court  they  were  attend 
ing.  The  two  young  people,  however,  were  in  no  hurry 
for  the  day  appointed  for  that  return  to  come.  They 
were  very  happy  as  it  was.  They  discussed  their  future, 
and  laid  many  little  plans  to  be  carried  out  after  awhile. 
It  was  arranged  that  Robert  should  return  to  Virginia  at 
the  beginning  of  the  next  long  vacation;  that  the  wedding 
should  take  place  immediately  upon  his  coming  ;  and 
that  the  two  should  make  a  little  trip  through  the  moun 
tains  and,  returning  to  Shirley,  remain  there  until  the 
autumn  should  bring  Robert's  professional  duties  around 
again. 

They  were  in  the  very  act  of  talking  these  matters  over 
for  the  twentieth  time,  one  afternoon,  when  Maj.  Page- 


124  A   MA^   OF   HONOK, 

brook  rode  up.  He  seemed  absent  and  nervous  in  man 
ner,  and  after  a  few  moments  of  general  conversation 
asked  to  see  Eobert  alone  upon  business.  When  the  two 
were  closeted  together  Maj.  Pagebrook  opened  his  pocket- 
book  and  taking  out  a  paper  he  slowly  unfolded  it, 
saying :  "I  have  just  received  this,  Eobert,  and  I  sup 
pose  there  is  a  duplicate  of  it  awaiting  you  in  the  post- 
office." 

Robert  looked  at  the  paper  in  blank  astonishment. 

"What  does  this  mean  ?"  he  cried;  "my  draft  pro 
tested  !  Why  I  have  sixteen  hundred  dollars  in  that 
bank,  and  my  draft  was  for  only  three  hundred." 

"It  appears  that  the  bank  has  failed,"  said  Maj.  Page- 
brook.  "At  least  I  reckon  that's  what  the  Richmond 
people  mean.  They  say,  in  a  note  to  me,  that  it  '  went 
to  pot'  a  week  ago.  It  seems  there  are  a  good  many 
banks  failing  this  fall.  I  hope  you  won't  lose  everything, 
though,  Robert." 

The  blow  was  a  terrible  one  to  the  young  man.  In  a 
moment  he  took  in  the  entire  situation.  To  lose  the 
money  he  had  in  bank  was  to  be  forced  to  begin  the  world 
over  again  with  absolutely  nothing ;  but  at  any  rate  he 
could  pay  the  debt  he  owed  to  his  cousin  very  shortly, 
and  to  be  free  from  debt  is  in  itself  a  luxury  to  a  man  of 
his  temperament.  He  thought  but  a  moment  and  then 
said  : 

"  Cousin  Edwin,  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  carry  that 
protested  draft  for  me  a  few  days  if  you  will.  There  is 
some  money  due  me  on  the  fifteenth  of  this  month,  and 
it  is  now  the  ninth.  I  asked  that  it  should  be  sent  to  me 


OF  HO^OK.  125 

here,  but  I  shall  go  to  Philadelphia  at  once,  and  I'll  col 
lect  it  when  I  get  there  and  send  you  the  amount.  I 
promise  you  faithfully  that  it  shall  be  remitted  by  the 
fifteenth  at  the  very  furthest." 

"  0  don't  trouble  yourself  to  be  so  exact,  Kobert," 
replied  Maj.  Pagebrook.  "  Send  it  when  you  can  ;  I'm 
in  no  very  great  hurry.  Sarah  Ann  says  we  must  invest 
all  our  spare  money  in  the  new  railroad  stock ;  but  I 
needn't  pay  anything  on  that  till  the  twenty-third,  so 
there  will  be  time  enough.  But  for  that  I  wouldn't  care 
how  long  I  waited. " 

"I  shall  not  let  it  remain  unpaid  after  the  fifteenth  at 
furthest,"  said  Eobert.  "  I  do  not  like  to  let  it  lie  even 
that  long." 

Maj.  Pagebrook  took  his  departure  and  Eobert  told 
Sudie  of  the  bad  news,  telling  her  also  that  he  must  leave 
next  morning  for  Philadelphia,  to  see  if  it  were  possible 
to  save  something  from  the  wreck  of  the  bank. 

"  Besides,"  said  he,  "  I  must  get  to  work.  There  are 
nearly  two  months  of  time  between  now  and  the  first  of 
January,  and  I  cannot  afford  to  lose  it  now  that  I  have 
lost  this  money." 

"What  will  you  do,  Eobert  ?  You  can't  do  anything 
teaching  in  that  time." 

e '  No,  but  I  can  do  a  good  many  things.  I  write  a  lit 
tle  now  and  then  for  the  papers  and  magazines,  for  one 
thing.  I  can  pick  up  something,  I  think,  which  will  at 
least  pay  expenses." 

He  then  told  her  of  his  arrangement  with  Maj.  Page- 
brook  about  the  protested  draft,  and  finished  by  repeat- 


126  A.   MA^"   OI1   HOKOR. 

ing  what  that  gentleman  had  said  about  the  investment 
in  railroad  stock. 

This  troubled  Miss  Sudie  more  than  all  the  rest,  and 
Robert  seeing  it  pressed  her  for  a  reason.  But  no  reason 
would  she  give,  and  Eobert  was  forced  to  content  himself 
with  the  thought  that  his  trouble  naturally  brought 
trouble  to  her.  To  her  aunt,  however,  she  expressed  her 
conviction  that  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  had  suggested  the 
railroad  investment  merely  for  the  sake  of  compelling 
her  husband  to  press  Robert  for  payment.  She  was 
troubled  to  know  that  the  payment  must  be  deferred  even 
for  a  few  days,  but  rejoiced  in  the  knowledge  of  Robert's 
ability  to  discharge  his  indebtedness  speedily.  It  galled 
her  to  think  of  the  unpleasant  things  which  the  amiable 
mistress  of  The  Oaks  would  manage  to  say  about  Robert 
pending  the  payment.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  however, 
and  so  the  brave  little  woman  persuaded  herself  that  it 
was  her  duty  to  appear  cheerful  in  order  that  Robert 
might  be  so ;  and  whatever  Miss  Sudie  believed  to  be 
her  duty  in  any  case  Miss  Sudie  did,  however  difficult 
the  doing  might  be.  She  accordingly  wore  the  pleasant- 
est  possible  smile  and  the  most  cheerful  of  countenances 
whenever  Robert  was  present,  doing  every  particle  of  her 
necessary  crying  in  her  own  room  and  carefully  washing 
away  all  traces  of  the  process  before  opening  the  door. 

Robert  made  all  his  preparations  for  departure  that 
afternoon,  and  on  the  following  morning  was  driven  to 
the  Court  House  in  the  family  carriage.  When  he  arriv 
ed  there  he  got  what  letters  there  were  for  him  in  the 
post-office,  read  them,  and  talked  a  few  moments  with 


A  MAN   OF   HONOR.  127 

Ewing  Pagebrook,  who  had  spent  the  preceding  night 
with  Foggy  and  Dr.  Harrison,  and  was  now  deeply  con 
trite  and  rather  anxious  than  otherwise  that  Robert 
should  scold  him.  There  was  no  time,  however,  even  for 
the  giving  of  advice,  as  the  train  had  now  come,  and 
Robert  must  go  at  once.  A  hasty  hand-shaking  closed 
the  interview,  and  Robert  was  gone. 


128  A   MAH   OP  HOKOR. 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Mr.  Pagebroolc  Goes  to  Work. 

WHEN"  Robert  arrived  in  Philadelphia  his  first  care 
was  to  make  inquiries  with  regard  to  the  bank 
in  which  his  money  was  deposited.  He  learned  that  it 
had  suspended  "payment  about  one  week  before,  and  that 
its  affairs  were  in  the  hands  of  an  assignee.  This  was  all 
he  could  find  out  on  the  afternoon  of  his  arrival,  and 
with  this  he  was  forced  to  content  himself  until  the  next 
day,  when  he  succeeded  with  some  little  difficulty  in  se 
curing  an  interview  with  the  assignee.  To  him  he  said  : 
"  My  only  purpose  is  to  ascertain  the  exact  state  of  the 
bank's  affairs,  in  order  that  I  may  know  what  to  do." 

* (  That  I  cannot  tell  you,  sir.  The  books  are  still  in 
confusion,  and  until  they  can  be  straightened  out  it  is  im 
possible  to  say  what  the  result  will  be." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  are  the  assets  anything  like  equal  to 
the  liabilities?" 

"  That  is  exactly  what  the  books  must  show.  I  can't 
say  till  we  get  a  statement." 

"You  can  at  least  tell  me  then,"  said  Robert,  pro 
voked  at  the  man's  reticence,  "  whether  there  are  any 
assets  at  all,  or  not." 

"No,  I  can  make  no  statement  until  the  books  are  ex 
amined.  Then  a  complete  exhibit  of  affairs  will  be  made." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Robert,  " but  this  question  is  one 


A   MAIS'   OF   HCWOR.  129 

of  serious  moment  to  me.  You  have  been  examining  this 
bank's  affairs  for  a  week,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  about  a  week." 

"  You  must  have  some  idea,  then,  whether  or  not 
there  is  likely  to  be  anything  at  all  left  for  depositors, 
and  you  will  oblige  me  very  much  indeed  by  giving  me 
your  personal  opinion  on  the  subject.  I  understand  how 
impossible  it  is  to  give  exact  figures  ;  but  you  cannot  have 
failed  to  discover  by  this  time  whether  or  not  the  assets 
amount  to  anything  worth  considering,  as  compared  with 
the  amount  of  the  bank's  liabilities.  I  would  like  the  little 
information  you  can  give  me,  however  inexact  it  may  be." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  the  assignee,  "I'm  afraid  you 
don't  understand  these  things.  Our  statement  is  not 
ready  yet,  and  I  can  not  possibly  tell  you  what  its  nature 
will  be  until  it  is." 

"  When  will  it  be  ready,  sir  ?"  asked  Robert. 

"  That  I  can  not  say  as  yet,  but  it  will  be  forthcoming 
in  due  time,  sir  ;  in  due  time." 

"Will  it  require  a  week,  or  a  month,  or  two  or  three 
months  ?  You  can,  at  least,  make  an  approximate  esti 
mate  of  the  time  necessary  for  its  preparation. " 

"  Well,  no,"  said  the  man  of  business,  "I  should  not 
like  to  make  any  promises  ;  I  am  hard  at  work,  and  the 
statement  will  be  ready  in  due  time,  sir  ;  in  due  time." 

Robert  left  the  man's  presence  thoroughly  disgusted. 
Thinking  the  matter  over  he  concluded  that  the  affairs 
of  the  bank  must  be  in  a  very  bad  way.  Otherwise,  he 
argued,  the  man  would  not  be  so  silent  on  the  subject. 

Now  the  assignee  was  perfectly  right  in  saying  that 


130  A   MAN"   OF   HONOR. 

Robert  did  not  understand  these  things.  If  he  had 
understood  them  he  would  have  known  that  the  reticence 
from  which  he  thus  argued  the  worst,  meant  just  noth 
ing  at  all.  Business  men  are  not  apt  to  commit  them 
selves  unnecessarily  in  any  case,  and  especially  in  such  a 
case  as  the  one  concerning  which  Robert  had  been  inquir 
ing.  The  bank  might  have  been  utterly  bankrupt  or 
entirely  solvent,  and  that  assignee  would  in  either  case 
have  given  precisely  the  same  answers  to  our  young 
friend's  questions.  He  knew  nothing  with  absolute  cer 
tainty  as  yet,  and  could  know  nothing  certainly  until  the 
last  column  of  figures  should  be  added  up  and  the  final 
balances  struck.  Then  he  could  make  a  statement,  but 
until  then  he  would  say  nothing  at  all.  He  acted  after 
his  kind.  Business  is  business  ;  and,  as  a  rule,  business 
men  know  only  one  way  of  doing  things. 

Robert,  however,  was  not  a  business  man.  He  knew 
nothing  about  these  things,  and  accordingly,  making  no 
alloAvance  for  a  business  habit  as  one  of  the  factors  in  the 
problem,  he  proceeded  to  argue  that  if  the  affairs  of  the 
bank  were  in  the  least  degree  hopeful  the  man  would 
have  said  so.  As  he  had  carefully  and  persistently  avoided 
saying  anything  of  the  kind,  Robert  could  only  conclude 
that  there  was  no  hope  at  all  to  be  entertained. 

He  quickly  determined,  therefore,  to  waste  no  more 
time.  Abandoning  his  sixteen  hundred  dollars  as  utterly 
lost,  he  packed  his  valise  and  went  at  once  to  New  York 
to  find  work  of  some  kind.  How  he  succeeded  we  shall 
best  see  from  his  letter  to  Cousin  Sudie,  from  which  I  am 
allowed  to  quote  a  passage  or  two. 


A  MAN   OF  HONOR.  131 

"I  am  very  busy  with  some  topical  articles,  as  the 
newspaper  folk  call  them.  That  is  to  say,  I  am  visiting 
factories  of  various  kinds  and  writing  detailed  accounts 
of  their  operations,  coupling  with  the  facts  gathered 
thus,  a  gossipy  account  of  the  origin,  history,  etc. ,  of  the 
industry.  I  find  the  work  very  interesting,  and  it  prom 
ises  to  be  quite  remunerative  too.  I  fell  into  it  by  acci 
dent.  About  a  year  ago  I  spent  an  evening  with  a  friend, 
Mr.  Dudley,  in  New  York,  and  while  at  his  house  his 
seven  year  old  boy  showed  me  some  of  his  toys — little 
German  contrivances ;  and  I,  knowing  something  about 
the  toys  and  the  people  who  make  them — you  know 
I  made  a  summer  trip  through  Europe  once — fell  to 
telling  him  about  them.  His  father  was  as  much  inter 
ested  as  he,  but  the  matter  soon  passed  from  my  mind. 
When  I  came  over  here  a  week  ago  to  look  for  something 
to  do  I  visited  the  office  of  this  paper,  hoping  that  I 
should  be  allowed  to  do  a  little  reporting  or  drudgery  of 
some  sort  till  something  better  should  turn  up.  Who 
should  I  find  in  the  editor's  chair  but  my  friend 
Dudle}r.  I  told  him  my  errand,  and  his  reply  was  : 

"  '  I  haven't  a  moment  now,  Pagebrook,  but  you're  the 
very  man  I  want ;  come  up  and  see  me  this  evening.  We 
dine  at  half -past  six,  and  over  our  roast-beef  I  can  explain 
fully  what  I  mean.' 

"  I  went,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  at  dinner  Dudley 
said  : 

"'Our  paper,  Pagebrook,  is  meant  to  be  a  kind  of 
American  Penny  Magazine.  That  is  to  say,  we  want  to 
fill  it  full  of  entertaining  information,  partly  for  the  sake 


132  A   MAK   OF  HOtfOB, 

of  the  information  but  more  for  the  sake  of  the  enter 
tainment.  Now  I  have  tried  at  least  fifty  people,  in  the 
hope  of  finding  somebody  who  could  tell,  in  writing,  just 
such  things  as  you  told  our  Ben  when  you  were  here  a 
year  ago.  I  never  dreamed  of  getting  you  to  do  it,  but 
you're  just  the  man,  and  about  the  only  one,  too,  I  begin 
to  think.  Now,  if  you've  a  mind  to  do  it,  I  can  keep 
you  busy  as  long  as  you  like.  I  don't  mean  to  confine 
you  to  this  particular  kind  of  work,  but  I'd  rather  have 
articles  of  that  sort  than  any  others,  and  the  publishers 
won't  grumble  if  I  pay  you  twenty  dollars  apiece  for 
them.  They  mustn't  exceed  two  of  our  columns — say 
two  thousand  words  in  all — but  if  you  can't  tell  your 
story  in  any  particular  instance  within  those  limits,  you 
can  make  two  articles  out  of  it.  I've  already  told  your 
toy  story,  but  you  can  easily  hunt  up  plenty  of  other 
things  to  tell  about.  Common  things  are  best — things 
people  see  every  day  but  know  nothing  about.' 

"  I  set  to  work  the  next  day,  and  have  been  busy  ever 
since.  I  like  to  visit  factories  and  learn  all  the  petty  de 
tails  of  their  operations,  and  I  find  that  it  is  the  petty 
details  which  go  to  make  the  description  interesting.  I 
like  the  work  so  well  that  I  almost  wish  I  had  no  profes 
sorship,  so  that  I  might  follow  as  a  business  this  kind  of 
writing,  and  some  other  sorts  in  which  I  seem  to  succeed 
— for  I  do  not  confine  myself  to  one  class  of  articles,  or 
to  one  paper  either,  for  that  matter,  but  am  trying  my 
hand  at  a  variety  of  things,  and  I  find  the  work  very  fas 
cinating.  But  it  is  altogether  better,  I  suppose,  that  I 
should  retain  my  position  in  the  college,  even  if  I  could 


A  MAK   OF   HOXOE.  133 

be  sure  of  always  finding  as  good  a  market  as  I  do  just 
now  for  my  wares,  which  is  doubtful.  I  have  lost  the 
whole  of  my  little  reserve  fund — as  the  bank  seems  hope 
lessly  broken;  and  if  I  had  nothing  to  depend  upon  except 
the  problematic  sale  of  articles,  I  would  do  you  a  wrong 
to  ask  you  to  let  our  wedding-day  remain  fixed.  As  it  is, 
my  salary  from  the  college  is  more  than  sufficient  for  our 
support,  and  as  my  expenses  from  now  until  the  time  ap 
pointed  will  be  very  small  indeed,  I  shall  have  several 
hundred  dollars  accumulated  by  that  time ;  wherefore 
if  Uncle  Carter  does  not  object,  pray  let  our  plans  re 
main  undisturbed,  will  you  not,  Sudie  ?  " 

The  rest  of  this  letter,  which  is  a  very  long  one,  is  not 
only  personal  in  its  character,  but  is  also  of  a  strictly 
private  nature  ;  and  while  I  am  free  to  copy  here  so  much 
of  this  and  other  letters  in  my  possession  as  will  aid  me 
in  the  telling  of  my  story,  I  do  not  feel  myself  at  liberty 
to  let  the  reader  into  the  sacred  inner  chambers  of  a  cor 
respondence  with  which  we  have  properly  no  concern,  ex 
cept  as  ifc  helps  us  to  the  understanding  of  this  his 
tory. 


134  A   MAN   OF   HOHOR. 


CHAPTEE    XIX. 

A  Short  Chapter,  not  very  interesting,  perhaps,  but  of 
some  Importance  in  the  Story,  as  the  Reader  will 
probably  discover  after  awhile. 

WHEN  the  letter  from  which  a  quotation  was  made 
in  the  preceding  chapter  came  to  Miss  Sudie, 
that  young  lady  was  not  at  Shirley  but  at  The  Oaks, 
where  Ewing  was  lying  very  ill.  He  had  been  prostrated 
suddenly,  a  few  days  before,  and  from  the  first  had  been 
delirious  with  fever.  The  doctor  had  appeared  unusually 
anxious  regarding  his  patient  ever  since  he  was  first 
summoned  to  see  him,  and  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  having 
given  way  to  her  alarm  at  the  evident  danger  in  which 
her  son  lay  to  such  an  extent  as  to  be  wholly  useless  to 
herself  or  to  anybody  else,  Miss  Sudie  had  been  called  in 
to  act  as  temporary  mistress  of  the  mansion. 

The  very  next  mail  after  the  one  which  brought  her 
letter,  had  in  it  one  from  Robert  addressed  to  Ewing 
himself.  Miss  Sudie,  upon  discovering  it  in  the  bag, 
carried  it  to  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  and  was  very  decidedly 
shocked  when  that  estimable  lady  without  a  word  broke 
the  seal  and  read  the  letter,  putting  it  carefully  away 
afterwards  in  E wing's  desk,  of  which  she  had  the  key. 


A  MAN   OF  HOKOR.  135 

Miss  Sudie  said  nothing,  however,  and  the  matter  was 
almost  forgotten  when  in  the  evening  the  doctor  came 
and  sat  down  by  the  sick  boy's  bed.  . 

"I  think  it  my  duty  to  tell  you,"  said  he  to  Cousin 
Sarah  Ann,  "that  the  crisis  of  the  disease  is  rapidly 
approaching,  and  I  must  wait  here  until  it  passes.  Your 
son  is  in  very  great  danger ;  but  we  shall  know  within  a 
few  hours  whether  there  is  hope  for  him  or  not.  I  con 
fess  that  while  I  hope  the  best  I  fear  the  worst." 

Mrs.  Pagebrook  was  thoroughly  overcome  by  her 
fright.  She  loved  her  son,  in  her  own  queer  way  ;  and 
being  a  very  weak  woman  she  gave  way  entirely  when  she 
understood  in  how  very  critical  a  condition  the  boy  was. 
It  was  necessary  to  exclude  her  from  the  room,  and  the 
doctor  remained,  with  Miss  Sudie  and  Maj.  Pagebrook. 
About  midnight  he  stood  and  looked  intently  at  the  sick 
man's  features,  listening  also  to  his  hard-coming  breath. 
He  stood  there  full  half  an  hour — then  turning  to  Miss 
Sudie,  he  said  : 

"  It's  of  no  use,  Miss  Barksdale.  Our  young  friend  is 
beyond  hope.  He  cannot  live  an  hour.  Perhaps  you'd 
better  inform  his  mother." 

But  before  Miss  Sudie  could  leave  the  bedside,  Ewing 
roused  himself  for  a  moment,  and  tried  to  say  something 
to  her. 

"  Tell  Kobert — I  got  sick  the  very  day — twenty-one — " 

This  was  all  Miss  Sudie  could  hear,  and  she  thought 
the  patient's  mind  was  wandering  still,  as  it  had  been 
throughout  his  illness.  And  these  incoherent  words 
were  the  last  the  young  man  ever  uttered. 


136  A   MAN   OF  HONOR. 

About  a  week  after  Ewing's  death  Cousin  Sarah  Ann 
said  to  Maj.  Pagebrook  : 

"Cousin  Edwin,  are  you  eyer  going  to  collect  that 
money  from  Kobert  ?  He  promised  to  pay  you  on  or 
before  the  fifteenth  of  November,  and  now  it's  nearly  the 
last  of  the  month  and  you  haven't  a  line  of  explanation 
from  him  yet.  I  told  you  he  wouldn't  pay  it  till  we 
made  him.  You  oughtn't  to've  let  him  run  away  in 
your  debt  at  all,  and  you  wouldn't  either,  if  you'd  a'list- 
ened  to  me.  Why  don't  you  write  to  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  to  press  the  poor  fellow.  He's  lost 
his  money  you  know,  and  I  reckon  he  finds  it  hard  to 
pull  through  till  January.  He'll  pay  when  he  can, 
I  reckon." 

"0  that's  always  the  way  with  you!  For  my  part  I 
don't  believe  he  had  any  money  in  the  bank ;  and 
besides  he  said  there  was  some  money  coming  to  him  on 
his  salary,  and  he  promised  faithfully  to  pay  you  out  of 
that.  I  told  you  he  wouldn't,  because  I  knew  him.  He 
tried  to  make  out  he  was  so  much  superior  to  the  rest  of 
us,  and  talked  about  ' reforming'  poor  Ewing,  just  as  if 
the  poor  boy  was  a  drunkard  and — and — and — if  you 
don't  write  /  will,  and  I'll  make  him  pay  that  money 
too,  or  I'll  know  why. " 

The  conversation  ended  as  such  conversations  usually 
did  in  Maj.  Pagebrook's  family,  namely,  by  the  abrupt 
departure  of  that  gentleman  from  the  house. 

Cousin  Sarah  Ann  evidently  meant  what  she  said,  and 
her  husband  was  no  sooner  out  of  the  house  than  she  got 
out  her  desk  and  wrote  ;  not  to  Robert,  however,  but  to 


A  HAtf   OF  HCWOR.  137 

Messrs.  Steel,  Flint  &  Sharp,  attorneys  and  counselors 
at  law,  in  New  York  city.  Her  note  was  not  a  long 
one,  but  it  told  the  whole  story  of  Kobert's  indebtedness 
from  a  not  very  favorable  point  of  view,  and  closed  with 
a  request  that  the  attorneys  should  "push  the  case  by 
every  means  the  law  allows."  This  note  was  signed  not 
with  Cousin  Sarah  Ann's  own  but  with  her  husband's 
name,  and  her  first  proceeding,  after  sealing  the  letter, 
was  to  send  it  by  a  servant  to  the  post-office.  She  then 
ordered  her  carriage  and  drove  over  to  Shirley. 


138  A   MAJST   OF  HONOR. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

Cousin  Sarah  Ann   Takes  Robert's  Part. 

COUSIN  SARAH  ANN  talked  a  good  deal.  Ill-na 
tured  people  sometimes  said  she  talked  a  good  deal 
of  nonsense,  and  possibly  she  did,  but  she  never  talked 
without  a  purpose,  and  she  commonly  managed  to  talk 
pretty  successfully,  too,  so  far  as  the  accomplishment  of 
her  ends  was  concerned.  In  the  present  case,  while  I 
am  wholly  unprepared  to  say  exactly  why  she  wanted  to 
talk,  I  am  convinced  that  this  excellent  lady's  visit  to 
Shirley  was  undertaken  solely  for  the  purpose  of  securing 
an  opportunity  to  talk. 

Arrived  there,  she  greeted  her  friends  with  her  black- 
bordered  handkerchief  over  her  eyes,  and  for  a  time 
seemed  hardly  able  to  speak  at  all,  so  overpowering  was 
her  emotion.  Then  she  said  : 

"  I  wouldn't  think  of  visiting  at  such  a  time  as  this,  of 
course,  but  Shirley  seems  so  much  like  home,  and  I  felt 
like  I  must  have  somebody  to  talk  to  who  could  sympa 
thize  with  me.  Dear  Sudie  was  so  good  to  me  during — 
during  it  all." 

After  a  time  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  composed  herself,  and 


A  MAN   OF   HONOlt.  139 

controlled  her  emotion  sufficiently  to  converse  connect 
edly  without  making  painful  pauses,  though  her  voice 
continued  from  first  to  last  to  be  uncomfortably  suggest 
ive  of  recent  weeping. 

"Have  you  had  any  news  of  Robert  lately  ?"  she 
asked ;  te  I  do  hope  he's  doing  well." 

"  We've  had  no  letters  since  Sudie's  came  while  she 
was  at  your  house/'  said  Colonel  Barksdale.  "  He  was 
doing  very  well  then,  I  believe,  though  he  thought  there 
was  no  hope  of  recovering  anything  from  the  bank." 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  "  for  I  love 
Eobert.  He  was  so  like  an  older  brother  to  my  poor  boy. 
I  feel  just  like  a  mother  to  him,  and  I  can't  bear  to  have 
anybody  say  anything  against  him." 

"  Nobody  ever  does  say  anything  to  his  discredit,  I 
suppose,"  said  Col.  Barksdale.  "He  is  really  one  of  the 
finest  young  men  I  ever  knew,  and  the  very  soul  of 
honor,  too.  He  comes  honestly  by  that,  however,  for 
his  father  was  just  so  before  him." 

"  That's  just  what  I  tell  Cousin  Edwin,"  said  Cousin 
Sarah  Ann.  ' '  I  tell  him  dear  Robert  means  to  do  right, 
and  will  do  it  just  as  soon  as  ever  he  can.  Poor  fellow  ! 
he  has  been  so  unfortunate.  Somebody  must  have  made 
Cousin  Edwin  suspicious  of  him,  else  he  wouldn't  think 
so  badly  of  poor  Robert." 

"Why,  Sarah  Ann,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Col. 
Barksdale.  "  Surely  Edwin  has  no  reason  to  think  ill  of 
Robert." 

"  No,  that  he  hasn't ;  and  that's  what  I  tell  him. 
But  he's  been  prejudiced  and  won't  hear  a  word.  He 


140  A  MAN   OF  HONOR, 

says"  nothing  about  it  to  anybody  but  me,  but  lie  really 
suspects  Robert  of  meaning  to  cheat  him,  and — " 

((  Cheat  him  !"  cried  all  in  a  breath,  "Why,  how  can 
that  be?" 

"0  it  can't  be,  and  so  I  tell  Cousin  Edwin ;  but  he  in 
sists  that  Eobert  told  him  he  would  pay  that  three  hun 
dred  dollars  on  or  before  the  fifteenth,  and  I  reckon  the 
poor  boy  hasn't  been  able  to  do  it,  or  he  would." 

"  Why,  Sarah  Ann,  you  don't  tell  me  that  Eobert  has 
failed  to  pay  Edwin  that  money  ! "  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  knew  that,  or  I  wouldn't  have 
told  you  about  it.  ISTo,  he  hasn't  sent  it  yet ;  but  he  will, 
of  course,  if  I  can  keep  Cousin  Edwin  from  writing 
him  violent  letters  about  it." 

"  Hasn't  he  written  to  explain  the  delay  ?"  asked  the 
Colonel. 

"  No  ;  and  that's  what  Cousin  Edwin  always  reminds 
me  of  when  I  try  to  take  Eobert's  part.  He  says  if  he 
meant  to  be  honest  he  would  have  written.  I  tell  him  I 
know  how  it  is.  I  can  fully  understand  Eobert's  silence. 
He  has  failed  to  get  money  when  he  expected  it,  I 
reckon,  and  has  naturally  hated  to  write  till  he  could 
send  the  money.  Poor  boy  !  I'm  afraid  he'll  overwork 
himself  and  half  starve  himself,  too,  trying  to  get  that 
money  together,  when  we  could  wait  for  it  just  as  well 
as  not." 

"  There  certainly  can  be  no  apology  for  his  failure  to 
write,  after  promising  payment  on  a  definite  day,"  said 
Col.  Barksdale ;  "  and  I  am  both  surprised  and  grieved 
that  he  should  have  acted  in  so  unworthy  a  way  !  " 


A   MAN    OF   HONOR.  141 

With,  this  the  Colonel  arose  and  paced  the  room  in  evi 
dent  anger.  Robert's  champion,  Cousin  Sarah  Ann, 
could  not  stand  this. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  going  to  turn  against  poor  Robert 
without  giving  him  a  hearing,  are  you,  Cousin  Carter  ? 
I  thought  you  too  just  for  that,  though  I  should  never 
have  mentioned  the  subject  at  all  if  I  hadn't  thought 
you  all  knew  about  it,  and  would  take  Robert's  part  like 
me." 

"  I  shall  give  him  a  hearing,"  said  the  Colonel  ;  "  but 
in  the  meantime  I  must  say  his  conduct  has  been  very 
singular — very  singular  indeed." 

"  0  he's  only  thoughtless  !"  said  the  excellent  woman, 
in  her  anxiety  to  shield  "  dear  Robert." 

<(  No  ;  hs  is  not  thoughtless.  He  never  is  thoughtless, 
whatever  else  he  may  be.  If  you  wish  to  defend  him, 
Sarah  Ann,  you  must  find  some  other  excuse  for  his  con 
duct.  Confound  the  fellow  !  I  can't  help  loving  him, 
but  if  he  isn't  what  I  took  him  for,  I'll " 

The  Colonel  did  not  finish  his  threat  ;  perhaps  he 
hardly  knew  how. 

"Now,  Cousin  Carter,  please  don't  you  fly  into  a  pas 
sion  like  Cousin  Edwin  does,"  said  Cousin  Sarah  Ann, 
pleadingly,  "but  wait  till  you  find  out  all  the  facts. 
Write  to  Robert,  and  I'm  sure  he  will  explain  it  all.  I 
wish  I  hadn't  said  a  word  about  it." 

"  You  did  perfectly  right,  perfectly,"  said  Colonel 
Barksdale.  "If  Robert  has  failed  in  a  point  of  honor,  I 
ought  to  know  it,  because  in  that  case  I  have  a  duty  to 
do — a  painful  one,  but  a  duty  nevertheless. " 


142  A   MAN   OF  HONOR. 

"  0  you  men  have  no  charity  at  all.  You're  so  hard 
on  one  another,  and  I'm  so  sorry  I  said  anything  about  it. 
Good-by,  Cousin  Mary.  Good-by,  Su'die  dear.  Come 
and  see  me,  won't  you  ?  I  miss  you  so  much  in  my 
trouble.  Come  often.  Come  and  stay  some  with  me. 
Do.  That's  a  dear." 

And  so  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  drove  away,  rejoicing  in  the 
consciousness  that  she  had  vigorously  defended  the  absent 
Robert ;  and  perhaps  rejoicing  too  in  the  conviction 
that  that  gentleman  could  not  possibly  explain  his  con 
duct  to  the  satisfaction  of  Colonel  Barksdale. 


A   MAK   OP   HOHOR.  143 


CHAPTEE      XXI. 

Miss  Barksdale  Expresses  some  Opinions. 

MISS  SUDIE  BARKSDALE  was  a  very  brave  little 
woman,,  and  she  needed  all  her  courage  on  the 
present  occasion.  She  felt  the  absolute  necessity  there 
was  that  she  should  sit  out  Cousin  Sarah  Ann's  conversa 
tion,  and  she  sat  it  out,  in  what  agony  it  is  not  hard  to 
imagine.  When  that  lady  drove  away  Miss  Sudie  ran  off 
to  her  room,  where  she  remained  for  two  or  three  hours. 
Upon  her  privacy  we  will  not  intrude. 

Col.  Barksdale  called  Billy  from  his  office,  and  giving 
him  the  newly  discovered  facts,  asked  his  opinion.  Billy 
was  simply  thunderstruck. 

"  I  can't  understand  it,"  said  he  ;  "  Bob  certainly  had 
that  money  coming  to  him  from  his  last  year's  salary,  for 
he  told  me  about  it  the  day  we  first  met  in  Philadelphia. 
If  Bob  isn't  a  man  of  honor,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the 
term,  I  never  was  so  deceived  in  anybody  in  my  life. 
And  yet  this  business  looks  as  ugly  as  home-made  sin. 
Bob  knew  perfectly  well  that  if  you  or  I  had  been  at 
home  when  he  left  we  wouldn't  have  allowed  his  protest 
ed  draft  to  stand  over  at  all,  but  would  have  paid  it  on 


144  A    MAK   OF   HO^TOE. 

the  spot  He  knew  too  that  if  he  couldn't  pay  when  he 
promised  he  could  have  written  to  me  or  to  you  explain 
ing  the  matter,,  and  we  would  have  lent  him  the  money 
for  twenty  years  if  necessary.  I  don't  understand  it  at 
all.  It  looks  ugly.  It  looks  as  if  he  meant  to  make  that 
money  clear." 

"Well,  my  son,"  said  Col.  Barksdale,  "I'll  give  him 
one  chance  to  explain  at  any  rate.  I'll  write  to  him 
immediately. " 

Accordingly  the  old  gentleman  went  to  his  library  and 
was  engaged  for  some  time  in  writing.  After  awhile 
there  came  a  knock  at  his  door,  and  Miss  Sudie  entered. 

"Come  in,  daughter,"  said  he,  tenderly.  "I  want  to 
talk  with  you. " 

"I  thought  you  would,"  said  the  sad-eyed  little 
maiden,  "and  that's  why  I  came.  I  wanted  our  talk  to 
be  private." 

"  You're  a  good  girl,  my  child."  Then,  after  a  pause, 
"This  is  bad  news  about  Robert." 

"  Yes  ;  and  from  a  bad  source,"  said  Sudie. 

"I do  not  understand  you,  daughter." 

"We  have  the  best  of  authority,  Uncle  Carter,  for 
saying  that  '  men  do  not  gather  grapes  of  thorns  ! ' ' 

"  But,  my  child,  I  suppose  there  can  be  no  doubt  of 
the  facts  in  this  case,  so  far  as  we  have  them.  We  know 
the  circumstances  of  Robert's  indebtedness  to  Edwin,  and 
whatever  her  motives  may  have  been,  Sarah  Ann  would 
hardly  venture  to  say  that  he  has  neither  paid  nor  written 
in  explanation  of  his  failure  to  do  so,  if  he  had  done 
either." 


A  MAK  OP  HONOR.  145 

"Perhaps  not." 

f '  Robert  ought  to  have  paid  at  any  cost  to  himself  if  it 
were  possible ;  and  if  it  were  not,  then  he  should  have 
written  in  a  frank,  manly  way,  explaining  his  inability  to 
fulfill  his  promise.  Appearances  are  so  strongly  against 
him  that  I  have  written  with  very  little  hope  of  eliciting 
any  satisfactory  reply." 

"  Will  you  mind  letting  me  see  what  you  have  written, 
Uncle  Carter?" 

"  No  ;  you  may  read  the  letter.     Here  it  is." 

Miss  Sudie  read  it.     It  ran  thus  : 

"  I  have  just  now  learned  that  you  have  wholly  failed 
to  fulfill  your  solemn  and  deliberate  promise,  made  on  the 
eve  of  your  departure  from  Shirley,  to  the  effect  that  you 
would,  without  fail,  take  up  your  protested  draft  for 
three  hundred  dollars  ($300),  held  by  your  Cousin  Major 
Edwin  Pagebrook,  on  or  before  the  fifteenth  (15th),  day 
of  this  current  month.  It  is  now  the  thirtieth  (30th), 
and  hence  your  promise  is  fifteen  (15)  days  over  due. 
I  learn  also  that  you  have  failed  to  write  in  explanation 
of  your  delinquency  or  in  any  way  to  account  or  apologise 
for  it.  Permit  me  to  say  that  as  your  conduct  presents 
itself  to  me  at  this  time,  it  is  unworthy  the  gentleman 
which  you  profess  to  be,  and  I  now  demand  of  you  either 
that  you  shall  give  me  immediately  a  satisfactory  ex 
planation  of  the  matter — and  that,  I  must  confess,  sir, 
seems  hardly  possible — or  that  you  shall  at  once  write  to 
my  niece  and  adopted  daughter,  releasing  her  from  her 
engagement  with  you." 

Having  finished  reading  the  letter  Sudie  handed  it  back 


146  A  MAH   OF  HONOK. 

to  her  uncle  without  a  word  of  comment.  Not  that  she 
was  in  this  or  in  any  other  case  afraid  to  express  her 
opinion.  Her  uncle  knew  very  well  when  he  gave  her 
the  letter  that  she  would  say  absolutely  nothing  about  it 
until  he  should  ask  her,  and  he  knew  equally  well  that 
upon  asking  her  he  would  get  a  perfectly  honest  expres 
sion  of  her  thought,  whatever  it  might  happen  to  be. 
But  Colonel  Barksdale  was,  for  the  time,  afraid  to  ask 
her  opinion.  He  was  a  brave  man  and  an  honest  one. 
He  was  known  throughout  the  state  as  a  lawyer  of  great 
ability  and  as  a  gentleman  of  the  most  undoubted  sort. 
And  yet  at  this  moment  he  found  himself  afraid  of  a 
young  girl,  who  stood  in  the  relation  of  daughter  to  him 
— a  girl  who  was  never  violent  in  word  or  act,  a  girl 
who  honored  him  as  a  father  and  loved  him  with  all 
her  heart.  He  knew  she  would  unhesitatingly  speak 
the  truth,  and  it  was  the  truth  of  which  he  was  afraid. 
He  had  not  been  aware,  when  he  wrote,  of  any  disposi 
tion  to  do  Eobert  injustice,  else,  being  a  just  man,  he 
would  have  spurned  the  thought  from  him;  but  now  that 
he  felt  bound  to  ask  Miss  Sudie  for  her  opinion  of  his 
course,  he  became  uncomfortably  conscious  that  there  had 
been  other  impulses  than  just  ones  governing  him  in  his 
choice  of  language.  At  last  he  asked  the  dreaded 
question. 

"  What  do  you  think,  daughter  ?" 

"I  think  you  have  not  done  yourself  justice,  Uncle 
Carter,  in  writing  such  a  letter  as  that.  The  letter  is  not 
like  you,  at  all." 

"Well?" 


A  MAK   OF   HONOR.  147 

"  Do  you  mean  why  and  wherefore  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Why  and  wherefore,  Sudie  ?" 

ef  Because  it  is  not  like  you  to  do  an  act  of  injustice, 
and  when  you  are  betrayed  into  one  you  misrepresent 
yourself." 

"But  wherein  is  my  letter  an  act  of  injustice,  my 
child?" 

"  It  assumes  unproved  guilt ;  and  I  believe  even  crimi 
nals  are  entitled  to  a  more  favorable  starting-point  than 
that  in  their  efforts  to  clear  themselves." 

"  But,  Sudie,  I  have  not  assumed  that  Eobert  is  guilty. 
I  have  asked  him  to  explain. " 

"  Yes ;  and  in  the  very  act  of  asking  him  to  explain  to 
you,  his  judge,  you  liave  assured  him  from  the  bench 
that  the  court  believes  an  explanation  impossible." 

"  Have  I  ?    Let  me  see." 

After  looking  at  the  letter  again  he  resumed  : 

"  I  believe  you  are  right  about  that ;  I  will  rewrite  the 
letter,  omitting  the  objectionable  clause.  Is  that  all 
Sudie?" 

' '  Perhaps  when  you  come  to  rewrite  the  letter  you 
will  see  that  its  tone  is  as  unjust  as  any  words  could  pos 
sibly  be.  It  seems  so  to  me. " 

"Let  me  try  my  hand  again,  daughter.  Keep  your 
seat  please  while  I  write  a  new  letter  instead  of  rewriting 
the  old  one." 

"There.  How  will  that  do?"  he  asked,  as  he' 
handed  the  young  woman  this  hastily-written  note. 

"MY  DEAR  EGBERT:  "We  have  just  been  hearing 
some  news  of  you,  which  I  trust  you  will  be  able  to 


148  A   MAN   OF  HONOR. 

contradict  or  explain.  It  is  that  you  have  failed  to  keep 
your  promise  in  the  matter  of  your  indebtedness  to  Major 
Pagebrook,  and  that  you  have  not  even  offered  a  word 
by  way  of  apology  or  explanation.  The  peculiar  relations 
in  which  you  now  stand  to  my  family  justify  me,,  I  think, 
in  asking  you  to  explain  a  matter  which,  unexplained, 
must  reflect  upon  your  character  as  an  honorable  man. 
Please  write  to  me  by  return  mail." 

"That  is  more  like  you,  Uncle  Carter.  But  I  am 
sorry  to  find  that  you  are  convinced,  in  advance,  of  Eob- 
ert's  guilt.  You  propose  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  his 
case,  and  a  court  should  not  only  appear  but  be  free 
from  bias." 

"Why,  my  daughter,  I  can  hardly  see  how  there  can 
be  any  possible  excuse  in  a  case  like  this.  You  cannot 
deny  that  both  facts  and  appearances  are  against  him." 

"  I  doubt  whether  we  have  the  facts  yet,  Uncle  Carter. 
Aside  from  my  knowledge  of  Cous —  of  Sarah  Ann  Page- 
brook's  general  character,  I  saw  her  do  a  dishonorable 
thing  once.  I  saw  her  open  and  read  a  letter  which  was 
not  addressed  to  her,  and  I  have  no  faith  whatever  in 
her,  or  in  any  statement  which  comes  from  her  or 
through  her." 

Colonel  Barksdale  was  probably  not  sorry  that  the  con 
versation  was  interrupted  at  this  point  by  the  entrance  of 
•  a  servant  announcing  a  client.  He  felt  that  it  would  be 
idle  to  argue  with  Sudie  in  a  matter  in  which  her  feelings 
were  strongly  enlisted,  and  he  felt  that  in  calling  Eobert 
to  an  account  he  was  doing  a  simple  duty.  He  was,  there 
fore,  rather  pleased  than  otherwise  to  have  an  accident 


A   MAK   OF   HOXOR.  149 

terminate  a  conversation  which  did  not  promise  to  ter 
minate  itself  agreeably. 

Miss  Sudie  went  to  her  room  and  wrote  to  Robert  on 
her  own  account.  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  print  her  letter 
here,  as  I  should  greatly  like  to  do,  but  the  reader  will 
readily  guess  its  general  nature.  She  told  Robert  in  de 
tail  everything  that  had  been  said  concerning  him  that 
day.  She  told  him  of  her  uncle's  anger,  and  of  the  proba 
bility  that  everybody  would  believe  him  guilty  if  he 
failed  to  establish  his  innocence  ;  but  she  assured  him 
that  she,  at  least,  had  no  idea  of  doubting  him  for  a  mo 
ment. 

"  For  your  sake,"  she  wrote,  "  I  hope  you  will  be  able 
to  offer  a  convincing  explanation  ;  but  whether  you  can 
do  that  or  not,  Robert,  /  know  that  you  are  true  and 
manly,  and  not  even  facts  shall  ever  make  me  doubt  your 
truth.  I  may  never  be  able  to  see  how  your  action  has 
been  right,  but  I  shall  know,  nevertheless,  that  it  has 
been  so.  My  woman  love  is  truer,  to  me  at  least,  than 
logic — truer  than  fact — truer  than  truth  itself." 

All  this  was  very  illogical — very  unreasonable,  but  very 
natural.  It  was  "  just  like  a  woman  "  to  set  her  emo 
tions  up  in  a  holy  place  and  compel  her  reason  to  do 
homage  to  them  as  to  a  god.  And  that  is  the  very  best 
thing  there  is  about  women,  too.  You  and  I,  sir,  would 
fare  badly  if  in  naming  a  woman  wife  we  could  not  feel 
assured  that  her  love  will  ever  override  her  reason  in 
matters  concerning  us. 


150  A   MAN   OF   HONOR. 


OHAPTEE    XXII. 


Mr.    Sharp    Does    His    Duty. 


THE  law  firm  of  Steel,  Flint  &  Sharp  was  a 
thoroughly  well  constituted  one.  Its  organiza 
tion  was  an  admirable  example  of  means  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  accomplishment  of  ends.  It  was  not  an 
eminent  firm  but  it  was  an  eminently  successful  one,  par 
ticularly  in  the  lines  of  business  to  which  it  gave  special 
attention,  and  the  leading  one  of  these  was  collecting 
doubtful  debts,  as  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  had  learned  from  one 
of  the  firm's  cards  which  had  fallen  in  her  way.  Indeed 
it  was  the  accidental  possession  of  this  card  which  enabled 
her  to  put  the  matter  of  Robert's  indebtedness  into  the 
hands  of  New  York  attorneys,  and  I  suspect  that  she 
would  never  have  thought  of  doing  so  at  all  but  for  the 
enticing  words,  fairly  printed  upon  the  card — "particular 
attention  given  to  the  collection  of  doubtful  debts,  due 
to  non-residents  of  JSTew  York." 

A  "prophet,  we  know,  is  not  without  honor  save  in  his 
own  country,  and  so  it  is  not  strange  that  the  people  who 
familiarly  knew  the  countenances  of  the  gentlemen 


A  MAN   OF  HONOR.  151 

composing  the  firm  of  Steel,  Flint  &  Sharp,  esteemed 
these  gentlemen  less  highly  than  did  those  other  people, 
resident  outside  of  New  York,  who  could  know  these 
counselors  at  law  only  through  their  profusely  distrib 
uted  cards  and  circulars.  Such  was  the  fact ;  and  as  a 
result  It  happened  that  the  clients  of  the  firm  were 
chiefly  people  who,  living  in  other  parts  of  the  country, 
were  compelled  to  intrust  their  business  in  New  York  to 
the  hands  of  whatever  attorneys  they  believed  were  the 
leading  ones  in  the  metropolis.  And  it  was  to  let  people 
know  who  were  the  leading  lawyers  of  the  city,  that 
Messrs.  Steel,  Flint  &  Sharp  industriously  scattered  their 
cards  and  circulars  throughout  the  country. 

Who  Mr.  Steel  was  I  do  not  know,  and  I  am  strongly 
inclined  to  suspect  that  the  rest  of  the  world,  including 
his  partners,  were  in  a  state  of  equal  ignorance.  He  was 
never  seen  about  the  firm's  offices,  and  never  represented 
anybody  in  court,  but  he  was  frequently  referred  to  by 
his  partners,  especially  when  clients  were  disposed  to 
complain  of  apparently  exorbitant  charges. 

"Mr.  Steel  can  not  give  his  attention  to  a  case,  sir, 
for  nothing.  His  reputation  is  at  stake,  sir,  in  all  we 
undertake.  I  really  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  ask  Mr. 
Steel  to  authorize  any  reduction  in  this,  case,  sir.  He 
gave  his  personal  attention  to  the  papers — his  personal 
attention,  sir." 

And  this  would  commonly  send  clients  away  sup 
pressed,  if  not  satisfied. 

Mr.  Flint  was  well  enough  known.  He  managed  the 
business  of  the  firm.  It  was  he  who  always  knew  pre- 


lo/J  A   MAN   OF   HONOR. 

cisely  whafc  Mr.  Steel's  opinion  was.  He  alone,  of  all  the 
world,  was  able  to  speak  positively  of  matters  concerning 
Mr.  Steel.  Mr.  Sharp  was  his  junior  in  the  firm,  though 
considerably  his  senior  in  years.  For  Mr.  Sharp  Mr. 
Flint  entertained  not  one  particle  of  respect,  because  that 
gentleman  was  not  always  what  his  name  implied.  Mr. 
Sharp  left  to  himself  would  have  been  hopelessly  honest 
and  straightforward.  He  would  have  gone  to  the  dogs, 
speedily,  Mr.  Flint  said,  but  for  his  association  with 
himself. 

"  But  you  have  excellent  ability  in  your  way,  Sharp, 
excellent  ability,"  he  would  say  when  in  a  good  humor. 
"You  are  a  capital  executive  officer — a  very  good 
lieutenant.  Your  ideas  of  what  to  do  in  any  given 
case  are  not  always  good,  but  when  I  tell  you  what 
to  do  you  do  it,  Sharp.  I  always  know  you  will  do 
what  I  tell  you,  and  do  it  well  too." 

Mr.  Sharp  usually  came  to  the  office  an  hour  earlier 
than  Mr.  Flint  did,  in  order  that  he  might  have  every 
thing  ready  for  Mr.  Flint's  examination  when  that 
gentleman  should  arrive.  He  read  the  letters,  drew  up 
papers,  and  was  prepared  to  give  his  partner  in  each  case 
the  facts  upon  which  his  opinion  or  advice  was  necessary. 

On  the  morning  of  December  3d,  Mr.  Flint  came 
softly  into  his  office  and,  after  hanging  up  his  overcoat 
and  warming  his  hands  at  the  register,  went  into  his 
inner  den,  saying,  as  he  sat  down  : 

"  I'm  ready  for  you  now,  Sharp." 

Mr.  Sharp  arose  from  his  desk  and  entered  the  private 
room,  with  his  hands  full  of  papers. 


A   MAIs"   OF   HOXOR.  153 

"  What's  the  first  thing  on  docket,  Sharp  ?" 

"Well,  here's  a  collection  to  be  made.  Debtor,  Eobert 
Pagebrook,  temporarily  in  the  city.  Boarding  place 
not  known.  Writes  for  the  newspapers,  so  I  can  easily 

find  him.  Creditor  Edwin  Pagebrook,  of Court 

House,  Virginia.  Debtor  got  creditor  to  cash  draft  for 
three  hundred  dollars.  Draft  protested.  Debtor  came 
away,  and  promised  to  take  up  paper  by  fifteenth  Novem 
ber.  Hasn't  done  it.  Instructions  ' push  him.'" 

"Any  limitations?" 

"No." 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing  yet ;  I'll  look  him  up  to-day  and  dun  him." 

"  Yes,  and  let  him  get  away  from  you.  Sharp  do  you 
know  that  Julius  Caesar  is  dead  ?  " 

"Certainly." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that  you  do  know  something  then. 
Don't  you  see  the  point  in  this  case  ?  Go  and  make  out 
affidavits  on  information.  This  fellow  Kobert  what's  his 
name  is  a  '  transient,'  and  we'll  get  an  order  of  arrest 
all  ready  and  then  you  can  dun  him  with  some  sense. 
Have  your  officer  with  you  or  convenient,  and  if  he  don't 
pay  up,  chuck  him  in  jail.  That's  the  way  to  do  it. 
Never  waste  time  dunning  ' transients'  when  there's  a 
ghost  of  a  chance  to  cage  them." 

"Well,  but  there  don't  seem  to  be  any  fraud  here. 
The  man  seems  to  have  had  funds  in  the  bank,  only  the 
bank  suspended." 

"  Sharp,  you'll  learn  a  little  law  after  awhile,  I  hope. 
Don't  you  know  the  courts  never  look  very  sharply  after 


154  A   MAN  OF  HOHOB. 

cases  where  transients  are  concerned  ?  How  do  we  know 
he  had  money  in  the  bank  ?  Is  there  anything  to  show 
it?" 

"No;  I  believe  not." 

"  Well,  then,  don't  you  go  to  making  facts  in  the  in 
terest  of  the  other  side.  Let  him  make  that  out  if  he 
can.  You  just  draw  your  affidavits  to  suit  our  purposes, 
not  his.  Go  on  to  state  that  he  drew  a  certain  bill  of  ex 
change,  and  represented  that  he  had  funds,  and  so 
fraudulently  obtained  money,  and  all  that  ;  and  then  go 
on  to  say  that  his  draft  upon  presentation  was  protested, 
and  that  instead  of  making  it  good  he  absconded.  Be 
sure  to  say  absconded,  Sharp,  it's  half  the  battle.  Courts 
haven't  much  use  for  men  that  abscond  and  then  turn  up 
in  New  York.  Make  your  case  strong  enough,  though. 
We  only  swear  on  information,  you  know,  so  if  we  do 
put  it  a  little  strong  it  don't  matter.  There.  Go  and 
fix  it  up  right  away,  and  then  catch  your  man." 

A  few  hours  later,  as  Robert  Pagebrook  sat  writing 
in  his  room,  Mr.  Sharp  and  another  man  were  shown  in. 
Mr.  Sharp  opened  the  conversation. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Pagebrook,  I  believe  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Mr.  Robert  Pagebrook  ?" 

"Yes.     That  is  my  name." 

"  Thank  you.  My  name  is  Sharp,  of  the  firm  of 
Steel,  Flint  &  Sharp.  That's  our  card,  sir.  I  have  called 
to  solicit  the  payment,  sir,  of  a  small  amount  due  Mr. 
Edwin  Pagebrook,  who  has  written  asking  us  to  collect 
it  for  him.  The  amount  is  three  hundred  dollars,  I 


"LET  HIM  SEBVE  IT  AT  ONCE,  THEN.'* 


156 


A   MAX   OF  HOXOR.  157 

think.  Yes.  Here  is  the  draft.  Can  you  let  me  have 
the  money  to-day,  Mr.  Pagebrook  ? " 

"I  have  already  remitted  one  third  the  amount,  sir," 
said  Robert,  "  and  I  hope  to  send  the  remainder  in  in 
stallments  very  soon.  At  present  it  is  simply  impossible 
for  me  to  pay  anything  more." 

"  Have  you  a  receipt  for  the  amount  remitted  ?"  asked 
the  lawyer. 

"  No.  It  was  sent  only  yesterday.  But  if  you  will 
hold  the  draft  a  week  or  ten  days  longer,  I  will  be  able, 
within  that  time,  to  earn  the  whole  of  the  amount  re 
maining  due,  and  your  client  will  advise  you,  I  am  sure, 
of  the  receipt  of  the  hundred  dollars  already  sent." 

"  We  are  not  authorised  to  wait,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Sharp. 
"  On  the  contrary  our  instructions  are  positive  to  push 
the  case." 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  asked  Robert.  "I  have 
already  sent  every  dollar  I  had,  and  until  I  earn  more  I 
can  pay  no  more." 

"  The  case  is  a  peculiar  one,  sir.  It  has  the  appear 
ance  of  a  fraudulent  debt  and  an  attempt  to  run  away 
from  it.  I  must  do  my  duty  by  my  client,  sir ;  and  so 
this  gentleman,  who  is  a  sheriff 's  officer,  has  an  order  for 
your  arrest,  which  I  must  ask  him  to  serve  if  you  do  not 
pay  the  debt  to  day." 

"  Let  him  serve  it  at  once,  then,"  said  Robert.  "  I 
can  not  pay  now. " 


158  A   MAN   OF   HONOR. 


CHAPTEK     XXIII. 


J/r.  Pagebrook  Takes  a  Lesson  in  the  Law. 


AS  Robert  was  unable  to  give  bail  without  calling 
upon  his  friend  Dudley,  which  he  determined  not 
to  do  in  any  case,  he  was  taken  to  the  jail  and  locked  up. 
Upon  his  arrival  there  he  employed  a  messenger  to  carry 
a  note  to  a  young  lawyer  with  whom  he  happened  to  be 
slightly  acquainted,  asking  him  to  come  to  the  jail  at 
once.  When  he  arrived  Robert  said  to  him  : 

"  Let  me  tell  you  in  the  outset,  Mr.  Dyker,  that  I 
have  no  money  and  no  friends ;  wherefore  if  you  allow  me 
to  consult  you  at  all,  it  must  be  with  the  understanding 
that  I  cannot  possibly  pay  you  for  your  services  until 
I  can  make  the  money.  If  you  are  willing  to  trust  me 
to  that  extent,  we  can  proceed  to  business. " 

"You  are  very  honorable,  sir,  to  inform  me,  before 
hand,  of  this  fact.  Pray  go  on.  I  will  do  what  I  can 
for  you." 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,"  said  Robert,  "I  am  a  little 
puzzled  to  know  how  or  why  I  am  locked  up.  You  have 
the  papers,  will  you  tell  me  how  it  is  ?  " 


A   MA1ST   OF  HONOE.  159 

"  0  it's  plain  enough.  You  are  held  under  an  order 
of  arrest." 

' '  But  I  don't  understand.  I  thought  imprisonment 
for  debt  was  a  thing  of  the  past,  in  this  country  at  least, 
and  my  only  offense  is  indebtedness.  Is  it  possible  that 
men  may  still  be  imprisoned  for  debt  in  America  ?  " 

"  "Well,  that  is  about  it,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  We  have 
abolished  the  name  but  retain  the  thing  in  a  slightly 
modified  form — in  ISTew  York  at  least.  Theoretically 
you  are  not  imprisoned,  but  merely  held  to  answer. 
The  plaintiffs  have  made  out  a  case  of  fraud  and  non- 
residence,  and  so  they  had  plain  sailing." 

(<  But  I  always  understood  that  our  constitution  or  our 
law  or  something  else  secured  every  man  against  impris 
onment  except  by  due  process  of  law,  and  gave  to  every 
accused  person  the  right  to  be  confronted  with  his 
accusers,  to  cross-examine  witnesses,  and  to  have  his  guilt 
or  innocence  passed  upon  by  a  jury  of  his  countrymen." 

"That  is  the  theory ;  but  there  are  some  classes  of  cases 
which  are  practically  exceptions,  and  yours  is  one  of 
them." 

"Then,"  said  Robert,  "it  is  true,  is  it,  that  an  Ameri 
can  may  be  arrested  and  sent  to  jail  without  trial,  upon 
the  mere  strength  of  affidavits  made  by  lawyers  who  know 
nothing  of  the  facts  except  what  they  have  heard  from 
distant,  irresponsible,  and  personally  interested  clients — 
affidavits  upon  information,  I  believe  you  call  them  ?  " 

"Well,  you  put  it  a  little  strongly,  perhaps,  but  those 
are  the  facts  in  New  York.  Eespectable  lawyers,  how 
ever,  are  careful  to  satisfy  themselves  of  the,  facts  before 


160  A   MAN    OF   HONOR. 

proceeding  at  all  in  such  cases ;  and  so  the  law,  which  is 
a  very  convenient  one,  rarely  ever  works  injustice,  I  think 
— not  once  in  twenty  times,  I  should  say." 

"But,"  said  Robert,  "  the  personal  liberty  of  every  non 
resident  and  some  resident  debtors  is,  or  in  some  cases 
may  be,  dependent  solely  upon  the  character  of  attor 
neys,  as  I  understand  you." 

"In  some  cases,  yes.  But  pardon  me.  Had  we  not 
better  come  to  the  matter  in  hand  ?  " 

"As  we  are  not  a  legislature  perhaps  it  would  be 
better,"  said  Robert.  He  then  proceeded  to  relate  the 
facts  of  the  case,  beginning  with  his  drawing  of  the 
draft  in  good  faith,  its  protest,  and  his  consequent 
perplexity. 

"  I  did  not  l abscond'  at  all,"  he  continued,  "  but  came 
away  to  see  if  I  could  save  something  from  the  wreck  of 
the  bank,  and  to  seek  work.  In  leaving,  I  promised  to 
pay  the  debt  on  or  before  the  fifteenth  of  last  month,  feel 
ing  certain  that  I  could  do  so.  I  failed  to  do  it,  through 

never  mind,  I  failed  to  do  it,  but  I  have  been  trying 

hard  ever  since  to  get  the  money  and  discharge  the  obli 
gation.  I  yesterday  remitted  a  hundred  dollars,  and 
should  have  sent  the  rest  as  fast  as  I  could  make  it. 
These  are  the  facts.  Now  how  am  I  to  get  out  of 
here?" 

"  You  have  nobody  to  go  your  bail  ?  " 

"Nobody." 

"And  no  money?" 

"  None.  I  sold  my  watch  in  order  to  get  money  on 
which  to  live  while  I  was  looking  for  work." 


A   MAK   OF  HONOR.  161 

"  You  did  have  money  enough  to  your  credit  in  that 
bank  to  have  made  your  draft  good  if  the  bank  hadn't 
suspended  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  can  swear  to  that  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"Then  I  think  we  can  manage  this  matter  without 
much  difficulty.  We  can  admit  the  facts  but  deny  the 
fraudulent  intent,  in  affidavits  of  our  own,  and  get  dis 
charged  on  that  ground.  I  think  we  can  easily  overthrow 
the  theory  of  fraud  by  showing  that  you  actually  had  the 
money  in  bank  and  swearing  that  you  drew  against  it  in 
good  faith." 

"  Pardon  me ;  but  in  doing  that  I  should  be  bound, 
should  I  not,  in  honor  if  not  in  law,  to  state  all  the  facts 
of  the  case  in  my  affidavit  ?  The  theory  of  the  proceed 
ing  is  that  I  am  putting  the  court  in  possession  of  all  the 
facts  and  withholding  nothing,  is  it  not.?" 

"Well — yes.     I  suppose  it  is," 

"  Then  let  us  abandon  that  plan  forthwith." 

t{  But  my  dear  sir " 

"  Pray  don't  argue  the  point.  My  mind  is  fully  made 
up.  Is  there  no  other  mode  of  securing  my  release  ?  " 

"  Yes;  you  might  schedule  out. under  article  5  of  the 
Non-Imprisonment  Act,  I  think." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  It  is  a  sort  of  insolvency  or  bankruptcy  proceeding,  by 
which  you  come  into  court — any  court  of  record — and 
offer  to  give  up  everything  you  have  to  your  creditors, 
giving  a  sworn  catalogue  of  all  your  debts  and  all  your 


162  A  MAtf   OF  HONOK. 

property,  and  praying  release  on  the  ground  that  you  are 
unable  to  do  more." 

"  Well,  as  I  have  literally  nothing  in  the  way  of  prop 
erty  just  now,  that  mode  of  procedure  seems  to  fit  'my 
case  precisely,"  said  Robert,  whose  courage  and  good 
humor  and  indomitable  cheerfulness  stood  him  in  good 
stead  in  this  time  of  yery  sore  trial.  The  world  looked 
gloomy  enough  to  him  then  in  whatever  way  he  chose  to 
look  at  it,  but  the  instinct  of  fight  was  large  within  him, 
and  in  the  absence  of  other  joys  he  felt  a  savage  pleasure 
in  knowing  that  his  life  henceforth  must  be  a  constant 
struggle  against  fearful  odds — odds  of  prejudice  as  well 
as  of  poverty  ;  for  who  could  now  take  him  by  the  hand 
and  say  to  others  this  is  my  friend  ? 

"It's  too  late  to  accomplish  anything  to-day,  Mr.  Page- 
brook,"  said  the  lawyer,  looking  at  his  watch;  "but  I  will 
be  here  by  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and  we  will 
then  go  to  work  for  your  deliverance,  which  we  can 
effect,  I  think,  pretty  quick.  Good  evening,  sir." 


A  MAN  OF  HONOR.  163 


CHAPTER     XXIV. 

Mr.    Pagebrook   Cuts  himself  loose  from  the  Past  and 
Plans  a  Future. 

WHEN  the  lawyer  had  gone  Kobert  sat  down  to 
deliberate  upon  the  situation  and  to  decide  what 
was  to  be  done  in  matters  aside  from  the  question  of  his 
release.  He  had  that  morning  received  Col.  Barksdale's 
letter  and  Miss  Sudie's.  These  must  be  answered  at  once, 
and  he  was  not  quite  certain  how  he  should  answer  them. 
After  turning  the  matter  over  he  determined  upon  his 
course  and,  according  to  his  custom,  having  determined 
what  to  do  he  at  once  set  about  doing  it.  Having 
brought  a  supply  of  paper  and  envelopes  from  his  room  he 
had  only  to  borrow  pen  and  ink  from  the  attendant. 

His  first  letter  was  addressed  to  the  president  of  the 
college  from  which  he  had  received  his  appointment  as 
professor,  and  it  consisted  of  a  simple  resignation,  with 
no  explanation  except  that  contained  in  the  sentence  : 

( '  I  can  ill  afford  to  surrender  the  position  or  the  salary, 
but  there  are  painful  circumstances  surrounding  me, 
which  compel  me  to  this  course.  Pray  excuse  me  from  a 
fuller  statement  of  the  case." 

To  Col.  Barksdale  he  wrote  : 

"Your  letter  surprises  me  only  in  its.  kindness  and 


164  A  MAN   OF  HOKOE. 

gentleness  of  tone.  Under  the  circumstances  I  could 
have  forgiven  a  good  deal  of  harshness.  For  your  forbear 
ance,  however,  you  have  my  hearty  thanks.  And  now  as 
to  the  subject  matter  of  your  note:  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  can 
offer  neither  denial  nor  satisfactory  explanation  of  the 
facts  alleged  against  me.  I  must  bear  the  blame  that 
attaches  to  what  I  have  done,  and  bearing  that  blame  I 
know  my  duty  to  you  and  your  family.  I  shall  write  by 
this  mail  to  Miss  Barksdale  volunteering  a  release,  which 
otherwise  you  would  have  a  right  to  demand  of  me." 

Sealing  this  and  directing  it,  Robert  came  to  the  hard 
est  task  of  all — the  writing  of  a  letter  to  Cousin  Sudie. 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  write  to  you,"  he  wrote. 
"Your  generous  faith  in  me  in  spite  of  everything  is 
more  than  I  had  any  right  to  expect,  and  more,  I  think, 
than  you  have  any  right,  in  justice  to  yourself,  to  give 
me.  I  thank  you  for  it  right  heartily,  but  I  feel  that  I 
must  not  accept  it.  When  you  listened  to  my  words  of 
love  and  gave  them  a  place  in  your  heart,  I  was  a  gentle 
man  without  reproach.  Now  a  stain  is  upon  my  name, 
which  I  can  never  remove.  The  man  to  whom  you 
promised  your  hand  was  not  the  absconding  debtor  who 
writes  you  this  from  a  jail.  I  send  this  letter,  therefore, 
to  offer  you  a  release  from  your  engagement  with  me,  if 
indeed  any  release  be  necessary.  You  cannot  afford  to 
know  me  or  even  to  remember  me  hereafter.  Forget  me, 
then,  or,  if  you  cannot  wholly  forget,  remember  me  only 
as  an  adventurer,  who  for  a  paltry  sum  sold  his  good  name. 

"  Good-by.     I  wish  you  well  with  all  my  heart." 

As  he  sealed  these  letters  Robert  felt  that  his  hopes  for 


A   MAK   OF  HOKOK.  165 

the  future  were  sealed  up  with  them,  and  that  the  post 
which  should  bear  them  away  would  carry  with  it  the 
better  part  of  his  life.  And  yet  he  did  not  wholly  surren 
der  himself  to  despair,  as  a  weaker  man  might  have  done. 
The  old  life  was  gone  from  him  forever.  The  only  peo 
ple  whom  he  had  known  .as  in  any  sense  his  own  would 
grasp  his  hand  no  more,  and  if  they  ever  thought  of  him 
again  it  would  be  only  to  regret  that  they  had  known  him 
at  all.  All  this  he  felt  keenly,  but  it  did  not  follow  that 
he  should  abandon  himself,  as  a  consequence.  He  was 
still  a  young  man,  and  there  was  time  enough  for  him  to 
make  a  new  life  for  himself — to  find  new  friends  and  to 
do  some  worthy  work  in  the  world ;  and  to  the  planning 
of  this  new  life  he  at  once  addressed  himself. 

He  would  teach  no  longer,  and  now  that  he  had  cut 
himself  loose  from  that  profession  there  was  opportunity 
to  do  something  at  the  business  which  he  had  found  so 
agreeable  of  late.  He  would  devote  himself  hereafter 
wholly  to  writing,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  he  would 
become  a  regular  member  of  the  staif  of  some  paper. 
Even  if  his  earnings  with,  his  pen  should  prove  small, 
what  did  that  matter  ?  He  could  never  think  of  marry 
ing  now,  and  a  very  little  would  suffice  to  supply  all  his 
wants,  his  habits  of  life  being  simple  and  regular.  It 
stung  him  when  he  remembered  that  there  was  a  stain 
upon  his  name  which  could  never  be  removed ;  but  that, 
he  knew,  he  must  bear,  and  so  he  resolved  to  bear  it 
bravely,  as  it  becomes  a  man  to  bear  all  his  burdens. 

"With  thoughts  like  these  the  stalwart  young  fellow 
sank  to  sleep  on  the  bed  assigned  him  in  the  jail. 


166  A  MAtf   OF  HOKOB. 


CHAPTEE    XXV. 

• 

In  which  Miss  Sudie  Acts  very  Unreasonably. 

THE  men  who  make  up  mails  and  handle  great 
bags  full  of  letters  every  day  of  their  lives 
grow  accustomed  to  the  business,  I  suppose,  and  learn 
after  awhile  to  regard  the  bags  and  their  contents  merely 
as  so  many  pounds  of  "mail  matter."  Otherwise  they 
would  soon  become  unfit  for  their  duties.  If  they  could 
weigh  those  bags  with  other  than  material  scales — if  they 
could  know  how  many  human  hopes  and  fears ;  how 
much  of  human  purpose  and  human  despair  ;  how  many 
joys  and  how  much  of  wretchedness  those  bags  contain  ; 
if  they  could  hear  the  moans  that  utter  themselves  in 
side  the  canvas  ;  if  they  could  know  the  varying  purposes 
with  which  all  those  letters  have  been  written,  and  the 
various  effects  they  are  destined  to  produce  ;  if  our  mail 
carriers  could  know  and  feel  all  these  things,  or  the  half 
of  them,  we  should  shortly  have  no  mail  carriers  at  all. 
But  fortunately  there  are  prosaic  souls  enough  in  the 
world  to  make  all  necessary  mail  agents  and  postmasters, 
and  undertakers  and  grave-diggers  out  of. 

In  the  small  mail  bag  thrown  off  at  the  Court  House 
one  December  morning,  there  was  one  little  package  of 


A  MAH   OF  HONOK.  *167 

New  York  letters — three  letters  in  all,  but  on  those  three 
letters  hung  the  happiness  of  several  human  lives.  Of 
one  of  them  we  shall  learn -nothing  for  the  present.  The 
other  two,  from  Robert  Pagebrook  to  Jris  uncle  and  Miss 
Barksdale,  we  have  already  been  permitted  to  read. 
When  these  were  received  at  Shirley,  Miss  Sudie  took 
hers  to  her  own  room  and  read  it  there,  after  which  she 
sat  down  and  answered  it.  Col.  Barksdale  read  his  with 
no  surprise,  as  he  had  not  been  able  to  imagine  any  pos 
sible  explanation  of  Robert's  conduct ;  and  now  that  that 
gentleman  frankly  confessed  that  there  was  none,  he  ac 
cepted  the  confession  as  a  bit  of  evidence  in  the  case,  for 
which  he  had  waited  merely  as  a  matter  of  form.  It  was 
his  duty  now  to  talk  again  with  his  niece,  but  he  was 
very  tender  always  in  his  dealings  with  her,  and  felt  an 
especial  tenderness  now  that  she  must  be  suffering  sorely. 
He  quietly  inquired  where  she  was,  and  learning  that  she 
was  in  her  own  room,  he  refrained  from  summoning  her 
himself,  and  gave  her  maid  particular  instructions  to 
allow  no  one  else  to  intrude  upon  her  privacy  upon  any 
pretense  whatsoever. 

"  Lucy,"  he  said,  to  the  colored  woman,  "your  Miss 
Sudie  wishes  to  be  alone  for  awhile.  Sit  down  in  the 
passage  near  her  door,  but  don't  knock,  and  don't  allow 
any  one  else  to  knock.  When  she  wishes  to  see  any  one 
she  will  open  the  door  herself,  and  until  then  I  do  not 
want  her  disturbed." 

Then  going  into  the  dining-room,  where  Dick  was  pol 
ishing  the  mahogany  with  a  large  piece  of  cork,  he  said  : 

((  Dick,  go  out  to  the  office  and  ask  your  Mas'  Billy  if 


1C8  *  A   MAN   OF  HONOR. 

he  will  be  good  enough  to  come  to  me  in  the  library.     I 
want  to  talk  with  him." 

When  Billy  came  in  his  father  showed  him  Robert's 
letter. 

"  The  thing  looks  very  ugly,"  said  the  younger  gentle 
man. 

"Very  ugly,  indeed,"  said  his  father;  "but  the  con 
founded  rascal  holds  up  his  head  under  it  all,  and  acts  as 
honorably  in  Sudie's  case  as  if  he  had  never  acted  other 
wise  than  as  a  gentleman  should.  He  is  a  puzzle  to  me. 
But,  of  course,  this  must  end  the  matter.  We  can  have 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  him  hereafter." 

"  But  how  is  it,  father,  that  they  have  managed  to  im 
prison  him  ?  " 

"  I  presume  they  have  secured  an  order  of  arrest  under 
that  New  York  statute  which  seems  to  have  been  devised 
as  a  means  of  securing  to  creditors  all  the  advantages  of 
imprisonment  for  debt  without  shocking  the  better  sense 
of  the  community,  which  is  clearly  against  such  impris 
onment.  The  majority  of  people  rarely  ever  pay  any  at 
tention  to  the  fact  so  long  as  they  are  spared  the  name 
of  odious  things.  No  debtors'  prison  would  be  allowed 
to  stand  in  the  United  States,  of  course,  but  the  common 
jails  answer  all  purposes  when  a  way  for  getting  debtors 
locked  up  in  them  has  been  devised." 

"  But  how  does  it  happen,  father,"  asked  Mr.  Billy, 
(f  that  only  New  York  has  such  a  statute  ?" 

"  Well,  in  New  York  the  commercial  interest  over 
rides  every  other,  and  commercial  men  naturally  attach 
undue  importance  to  the  collection  of  debts,  and  look  with 


A   MAJST   OF  HOKOR.  109 

favor  upon  everything  wliich  tends  to  facilitate  it.  These 
things  always  reflect  the  feeling  rather  than  the  opinion 
of  a  community.  In  new  countries,  where  horses  are  of 
more  importance  than  anything  else,  horse-stealing  is 
pretty  sure  to  he  punished  with  death,  either  by  law  or 
by  the  mob,  which  is  only  public  sentiment  embodied. 
Here  in  Virginia  you  know  how  impossible  it  is  to  get 
anything  like  an  effective  statute  for  the  suppression  of 
dueling,  simply  because  the  ultimate  public  sentiment 
practically  approves  of  personal  warfare.  But,  I  confess, 
I  did  not  know  that  the  New  York  statute  could  bo 
stretched  to  cover  a  case  like  Robert's.  As  I  understand 
it,  there  must  be  some  evidence  of  fraud  in  the  inception 
of  the  transaction." 

"They  proceed  upon  affidavits,  I  believe,"  said  Billy, 
((  and  when  that  is  done  it  isn't  hard  to  make  out  a  case, 
if  the  attorney  is  unscrupulous  enough." 

"  That's  true.  But  isn't  it  curious  that  Edwin  should 
have  proceeded  so  promptly  to  harsh  measures  ?  He  is 
so  mild  of  temper  that  this  surprises  me." 

"  Cousin  Edwin  doesn't  always  act  out  his  own  char 
acter,  you  know,  father.  His  wife  is  the  stronger  willed 
of  the  two." 

"  True.  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  However,  it  serves 
the  young  rascal  right." 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation  Cousin  Sudie's  knock 
was  heard  at  the  inner  door,  and  Col.  Barksdale  opening 
the  outer  one  said  : 

"You'd  better  go  out  this  door,  William.  It  would 
embarrass  Sue  to  find  you  here  just  now." 


170  A   MAIT   OF  HO^OK. 

( c  Come  in  my  daughter,"  he  said,  admitting  Miss 
Sudie.  "Sit  down.  I  am  greatly  pained,  on  his  ac 
count  as  well  as  yours,  to  find  that  Robert  has  no  expla 
nation  to  offer.  But,  of  course,  this  ends  it  all,  and  you 
must  take  a  little  trip  somewhere,  my  dear,  until  you  for 
get  all  about  it.  Where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

(( I  do  not  care  to  go  anywhere,  Uncle  Carter,"  replied 
the  little  maiden,  without  the  faintest  echo  of  a  sob  in 
her  voice.  "I  am  sorry  for  poor  Robert,  but  not  because 
I  think  him  guilty  of  any  dishonorable  action,  for  indeed 
I  do  not." 

"But,  my  dear,  it  will  never  do " 

"Pray  hear  me  out,  Uncle  Carter,  and  then  I  will 
listen  to  anything  you  have  to  say.  I  love  you  as  a 
father,  as  you  know  perfectly  well.  Indeed  I  have  never 
known  you  as  anything  else.  I  have  always  obeyed  you 
unquestioningly,  and  I  shall  not  begin  to  disobey  you 
now.  I  shall  do  precisely  what  you  tell  me  to  do,  so  long 
as  /  remain  in  your  house." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  daughter?"  asked  her 
uncle,  startled  by  the  singular  emphasis  which  Miss 
Sudie  gave  to  the  last  clause  of  the  sentence. 

"  Merely  this,  Uncle  Carter.  I  cannot  consent  to  do 
that  which  my  conscience  teaches  me  is  a  crime,  even  at 
your  command;  but  while  I  remain  at  Shirley  as  a 
daughter  of  the  house  I  must  obey  as  a  daughter.  If 
you  command  me  to  do  anything  which  I  cannot  do 
without  sinning  against  my  conscience,  then  I  must  not 
obey  you,  and  when  I  can't  obey  you  I  must  cease  to  be 
your  daughter.  I  shall  conceal  nothing  from  you,  Uncle 


A  MAK   OF  HOKOK.  171 

Carter ;  you  know  that,  and  I  beg  of  you  don't  command 
me  to  do  the  things  which  I  must  not  do.  I  love  you  and 
it  would  kill  me — no,  it  would  not  do  that,  but  it  would 
pain  me  more  than  I  can  possibly  say,  to  leave  Shirley." 

Col.  Barksdale  leaned  his  head  sorrowfully  upon  his 
hand.  He  loved  this  girl  and  held  her  as  his  own. 
Moreover,  he  had  solemnly  promised  his  dying  brother  to 
care  for  her  always  as  a  father  cares  for  his  children,  and 
an  oath  could  not  have  been  more  sacred  in  his  eyes  than 
this  promise  was.  Without  raising  his  head  he  asked  : 

"You  mean,  Sudie,  that  you  will  not  accept  Bobert's 
release  ?" 

"Yes,  uncle,  that  is  what  I  mean."  This  was  sorrow 
fully  and  gently  said,  but  firmly  too. 

"  He  has  offered  to  release  you  ;  has  he  not  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  in  so  offering,  did  he  express  or  hint  a  wish  that 
you  should  not  accept  his  release  ?  " 

"No.  On  the  contrary  he  assumed  that  I  would 
accept  it,  and  that  I  must  do  so  in  justice  to  myself. 
Here  is  his  letter.  Eead  it  if  you  please." 

Col.  Barksdale  read  the  letter,  with  which  the  reader 
is  already  familiar,  and,  handing  it  back,  said  : 

"A  very  proper  and  manly  letter." 

"Because  it  came  from  a  very  proper  and  manly  man," 
said  Miss  Sudie. 

"You  don't  believe  he  has  been  guilty  of  the  dishon 
orable  acts  laid  to  his  charge,  then  ?  " 

"Of  the  acts,  yes.  Of  the  dishonor,  no,"  said  the 
girl. 


172  A   MAi*    OF   HONOR. 

"On  what  ground  do  you  base  your  persistent  good 
opinion  of  him  ? " 

"  On  my  persistent  faith  in  him." 

"  Your  faith  is  very  unreasonable,  my  dear." 

(f  Perhaps  so,,  but  it  exists  nevertheless." 

' '  Have  you  answered  his  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  have  brought  my  answer  for  you 
to  read,  if  you  care  to  do  so,"  she  said,  taking  her  letter 
out  of  her  desk,  which  lay  in  her  lap,  and  giving  it  to  her 
uncle,  who  read  as  follows  : 

"MY  DEAR  EGBERT  : — I  am  not  in  the  least  surprised 
by  your  letter.  I  knew  you  would  offer  to  release  me 
from  my  engagement,  because  I  knew  you  were  a  man  of 
honor.  I  have  never  for  a  moment  doubted  that,  and  I 
do  not  doubt  it  now.  Your  character  weighs  more  witli 
me  than  any  mere  facts  can.  I  know  you  are  an  honor 
able  man,  and  knowing  that  I  shall  not  let  other  people's 
doubts  upon  the  subject  govern  my  action.  When  I 
{ listened  to  your  words  of  love,  and  gave  them  a  place  in 
my  heart,'  you  were,  as  you  say,  '  a  gentleman  without 
reproach';  and  the  reproach  which  lies  upon  you  now 
does  not  make  you  less  a  gentleman.  It  is  an  unjust  re 
proach,  and  your  manliness  in  bearing  it  and  oixering  to 
accept  its  consequences,  only  serves  to  mark  you  still  more 
distinctly  as  a  gentleman.  Shall  I  be  less  honorable,  less 
fearlessly  true  than  you  ?  "When  I  gave  you  my  heart 
and  promised  you  my  hand,  you  had  friends  in  abund 
ance.  Now  that  you  have  none,  I  have  no  idea  of  with 
drawing  either  the  gift  or  the  promise. 

"  You  say  you  can  never  clear  your  name  of  the  stain 


A   MAJf   OF  HOtfOK.  173 

which  is  upon  it  now.  For  that  I  am  heartily  sorry,  for 
your  sake,  but  as  I  know  that  the  stain  does  not  rightly  be 
long  there  it  becomes  my  duty  and  my  pleasure  to  bear 
it  with  you.  I  shall  retain  my  faith  in  you  and  my  love 
for  you,  and  I  shall  profess  them  too  on  all  proper  occa 
sions,  and  when  you  claim  me  as  your  wife  I  shall  hold 
up  Mrs.  Eobert  Pagebrook's  head  as  proudly  as  I  now 
hold  Susan  Barksdale's. 

"Under  other  circumstances  I  should  have  thought  it 
unmaidenly  to  write  in  this  way,  but  there  must  be  no 
doubt  of  my  meaning  now.  If  you  ever  ask  a  release 
from  your  promise,  with  or  without  reason,  I  trust  you 
know  me  well  enough  to  know  that  it  will  be  granted — 
but  from  my  promise  I  shall  ask  none.  Another  reason 
for  the  frankness  of  this  letter  is  that  I  want  you,  in  your 
trouble,  to  know  how  implicitly  I  trust  your  honor ;  and 
I  should  certainly  never  trust  such  a  letter  in  any  but  the 
cleanest  of  hands. 

{<  Uncle  Carter  will  see  this  before  it  goes,  and  he  will 
know,  as  it  is  right  that  he  should,  that  I  have  not 
availed  myself  of  your  proffered  release " 

The  omitted  sentences  with  which  the  letter  closed 
are  not  for  our  eyes.  Even  Colonel  Barksdale  refused  to 
read  them,  feeling  that  they  were  sacred,  and  that  the 
permission  given  him  to  read  the  letter  extended  no  fur 
ther  than  the  end  of  the  sentence  last  set  down  in  the 
extract  above  given. 

Eeturning  the  sheet  he  said  :  "I  suppose  you  have 
written  this  after  giving  the  matter  full  consideration, 
daughter?" 


174  A   MA3"  .OF   HO^OH. 

' '  I  never  act  without  knowing  what  I  am  doing,  Uncle 
Carter." 

"Well,  my  child,  I  think  you  are  wrong,  but  I  shall 
not  ask  you  to  do  anything  which  your  conscience  con 
demns.  I  shall  not  ask  you  to  withhold  your  letter,  or 
to  alter  it,  but  I  would  prefer  that  you  hold  it  until  to 
morrow,  so  that  you  may  be  quite  sure  you  want  to  send 
it  as  it  is.  Will  you  mind  doing  that  ?  " 

"No,  Uncle  Carter.  I  will  keep  it  till  to-morrow,  if 
you  wish,  but  I  shall  npt  change  my  mind  concerning  it. 
You  are  very  good  to  me.  Thank  you ; "  and  kissing  his 
forehead,  she  left  him,  not  to  return  to  her  room  as  a 
more  sentimental  woman  would  have  done,  but  to  go 
about  her  daily  duties,  with  a  sober  face,  it  is  true,  but 
with  all  her  accustomed  regularity  and  attention  to  busi 
ness. 


OF   HOXOK.  175 


CHAPTEK     XXVI. 

In  which  Miss  Sudie  Adopts  the  Socratic  Method. 

WHEN   Miss  Sudie  left  him  Col.  Barksdale  again 
sent  for  his   son  and  told  him  of  that  young 
woman's  unreasonable  determination. 

' '  I  expected  that,  father,  and  am  not  at  all  surprised/' 
said  the  young  man. 

"Why,  my  son?  Had  you  talked  the  matter  over 
with  her?" 

"No.  But  I  know  Sudie  too  well  to  expect  her  to 
give  up  her  faith  in  Bob  while  he  is  under  a  cloud  and  in 
trouble  too.  She  has  a  mighty  good  head  on  her  should 
ers  ;  but  what's  a  woman's  head  worth  when  her  heart 
pulls  the  other  way  ?  She  overrides  her  own  reason  as 
coolly  as  if  it  were  worth  just  nothing  at  all,  and  puts 
everybody  else's  out  of  the  way  with  the  utmost  indiffer 
ence.  I  know  her  of  old.  She  used  to  take  my  part  that 
way  whenever  I  got  into  a  boyish  scrape,  and  before  she 
had  done  with,  it  she  always  convinced  me,  along  with 
everybody  else,  that  I  had  done  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of. 
The  fact  is,  father,  I  like  that  in  Sudie.  She's  the  truest 
little  woman  I  ever  saw,  and  she  sticks  to  her  friends  like 
mutton  gravy  to  the  roof  of  your  mouth,"  said  Billy,  un- 


176  A   MAN   OF   IIONOK. 

able,  even  at  such  a  time  as  this,  to  restrain  his  passion 
for  strange  metaphors. 

"The  trait  is  a  noble  one,  certainly,"  said  the  old 
gentleman ;  "but  for  that  very  reason,  if  for  no  other,  we 
must  do  what  we  can  to  keep  her  from  sacrificing  herself 
to  a  noble  faith  in  an  unworthy  man.  Don't  you 
think  so?" 

"  Without  doubt.  But  what  can  we  do  ?  You  say 
you  do  not  feel  free  to  control  her." 

"We  can  at  least  do  our  duty.  I  have  talked  with 
her,  and  now  I  want  you  to  do  the  same.  She  will  not 
shun  the  conversation,  I  think,  for  she  is  a  brave  girl." 

"I  will  see  what  I  can  do,  father,"  said  the  young 
man.  "Possibly  I  may  persuade  her  to  let  the  matter 
rest  where  •  it  is,  for  the  present  at  least,  and  even  that 
will  be  something  gained." 

Col.  Barksdale  was  right  in  thinking  that  Miss  Sudie 
would  not  seek  to  avoid  a  conversation  with  Billy.  On 
the  contrary  she  wished  especially  to  say  something  to 
this  young  gentleman,  and  for  that  very  purpose  she 
sought  him  in  the  office.  He  and  she  had  been  brought 
up  as  brother  and  sister,  and  there  was  no  feeling  of 
restraint  between  them  now  that  they  were  grown  man 
and  woman. 

"Cousin  Billy,"  she  said,  sitting  down  near  him,  "I 
want  to  talk  with  you  about  Eobert.  I  want  to  remind 
you,  if  you  will  let  me,  of  your  duty  to  him." 

"What  do  you  conceive  my  duty  to  be  in  the  case, 
Sudie? "asked  Billy. 

"  To  defend  him,"  said  Miss  Sudie, 


OF   HONOR.  177 


"  But  how  can  I  do  that,  Sudie,  in  face  of  the  facts  ?  " 

"You  believe  then  that  Robert  Pagebrook,  whom  you 
know  thoroughly,  has  done  the  dishonorable  things  laid 
to  his  charge  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Billy,  feeling  himself  hardly  prepared  for 
this  kind  of  attack,  "  I  confess  I  should  never  have 
thought  him  capable  of  doing  such  things.  " 

"  Why  would  you  never  have  thought  him  capable  of 
doing  them,  Cousin  Billy  ?  " 

"0  well,  because  he  always  seemed  to  be  such  an  hon 
orable  fellow,"  said  Billy. 

"You  did  believe  him  honorable,  then  ?"  asked  this 
young  female  Socrates. 

"  Certainly;  you  know  that  Sudie." 

"  On  what  did  you  base  that  belief,  Cousin  Billy  ?" 

"Why,  on  his  way  of  doing  things,  on  my  knowledge 
of  him,  of  course  ;  "  replied  Billy. 

"Well,  then,  is  that  knowledge  of  him  of  no  value 
now  ?  "  asked  Sudie. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean  does  your  knowledge  of  Robert  weigh  nothing 
now  ?  Are  you  ready  to  believe  on  imperfect  evidence, 
that  Robert  Pagebrook,  who  you  know  was  an  honorable 
man,  is  not  now  an  honorable  man  ?  Doesn't  his  charac 
ter  weigh  anything  with  you  ?  Do  you  believe  his  char 
acter  has  changed,  or  do  you  think  it  possible  that  he 
simulated  that  character  and  did  it  so  perfectly  as  to 
deceive  us  all  ?  Doesn't  it  seem  more  probable  that  there 
is  some  mistake  about  this  business  ?  In  short,  how  can 
you  believe  Robert  guilty  of  a  thing  which  you  know  very 


178  A  MAN   OF  HOKOE. 

well  he  wouldn't  do  for  his  head?  If  you  'wouldn't 
have  believed  it/  why  do  you  believe  it  ?" 

Mr.  Billy  was  stunned.  He  had  been  prepared  for 
tears.  He  had  expected  to  find  in  Sudie  an  unreasoning 
faith.  He  had  looked  for  an  obstinate  determination  on 
her  part  to  adhere  to  her  purpose.  But  for  this  kind  of 
illogical  logic  he  had  made  no  preparation  whatever.  It 
had  never  entered  his  head  that  Miss  Sudie  would  seri 
ously  undertake  to  argue  the  matter.  The  evidence 
against  Eobert  he  had  accepted  as  unquestionable,  and 
he  had  not  expected  Miss  SudiS  to  question  it  in  this 
way. 

"But,  Cousin  Sudie,  you  overlook  the  fact  that  Eobert 
has  confessed  the  very  thing  which  you  say  is  unlikely." 

"No  ;  he  has  not  confessed  anything  of  the  sort.  In 
deed  he  seems  to  have  carefully  avoided  doing  so.  In  his 
lettlr  to  Uncle  Carter  he  merely  says,  '  I  can  offer  neither 
denial  nor  explanation  of  the  facts  alleged  against  me.' 
To  me  he  only  says,  'a  stain  is  upon  my  name.'  He 
nowhere  says,  *  I  am  guilty. ' " 

"But,  Sudie,"  said  Billy,  "if  he  a'n't  guilty,  why 
can't  he  offer  either  '  denial  or  explanation '  ?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  know  ;  but  I  don't  find  it  half  as  hard 
to  believe  that  there  may  be  good  reasons  for  that,  as  to 
believe  that  an  honorable  man — a  man  whom  we  both 
know  to  be  an  honorable  one — has  done  a  dishonorable 
thing." 

"But,  Sudie,  why  didn't  Bob  borrow  the  money  of 
father  or  of  me,  if  he  honestly  couldn't  pay  ?  He  knew 
we  would  gladly  lend  it  to  him." 


A   MAN    OF   HONOR.  179 

"  I'm  glad  you  mentioned  that.  If  Eobert  had  wanted 
to  swindle  anybody,  how  much  easier  it  would  have  been 
for  him  to  write  to  you  or  Uncle  Carter,  saying  he 
couldn't  pay  and  asking  you  to  take  up  his  protested 
draft  for  him.  He  knew  you  would  have  done  it,  and  he 
could  then  have  accomplished  his  purpose  without  any 
exposure.  Almost  any  excuse  would  have  satisfied  you 
or  Uncle  Carter,  and  so  the  thing  would  have  gone  on 
for  years.  Wouldn't  he  have  done  exactly  that,  Cousin 
Billy,  if  he  had  wanted  to  swindle  anybody  ?  Men  don't 
often  covet  a  bad  name  for  its  own  sake." 

"  Clearly,  Sudie,  I  am  getting  the  worst  of  this  argu 
ment.  You  are  a  better  sophist  than  I  ever  gave  you 
credit  for  being.  But  it's  hard  to  believe  that  black  is 
white.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  though,  Sudie.  I'll  do 
my  very  best  to  believe  that  there  is  some  sort  of  fakit 
possibility  that  facts  a'n't  facts,  and  hold  myself,  as  near 
ly  as  I  can,  in  readiness  to  believe  that  something  may 
turn  up  in  Bob's  favor.  If  anything  were  to  turn  up  I'd 
be  as  glad  of  it  as  anybody." 

((  But  I'm  not  satisfied  with  that,  Cousin  Billy." 

"  What  more  do  you  ask,  Sudie  ?" 

"  That  you  shall  hold  yourself  in  readiness  to  help  turn 
something  up  whenever  an  opportunity  offers.  Keep  a 
sharp  lookout  for  things  which  may  possibly  have  a  bear 
ing  upon  this  matter,  and  follow  up  any  clue  you  may 
get.  Won't  you  do  that  for  my  sake,  Cousin  Billy  ?  " 

"I'd  do  anything  for  your^sake,  Sudie,  and  I'd  give  a 
hundred  dollars  for  your  faith." 

And  so  ended  the  conversation.     Mr.  Billy,  it  must  be 


180  A   HAN   OF  HONOR. 

confessed,  had  done  little  toward  the  accomplishment  of 
the  task  he  had  set  himself.  But  as  he  himself  put  it : 
"  What  on  earth  was  a  fellow  to  do  with  a  faith  which 
made  incontestable  truths  out  of  impossibilities,  and 
scattered  facts  before  it  like  a  flock  of  partridges  ?  "  Mr. 
Billy  fully  appreciated  the  unreasonableness  of  Miss 
Sudie's  logic,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  all,  he  could  not  help 
entertaining  a  sort  of  half  hope  that  something  would 
occur  to  vindicate  Eobert — a  hope  born  of  nothing  more 
substantial  than  Miss  Sudie's  enthusiastic  belief  in  her 
lover. 


A  MAX   OF   HOKOR.  181 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


Mr.  Pagebrook  Accepts  an  Invitation  to  Lunch  and  an 
other  Invitation. 


ON  the  morning  after  Robert's  incarceration,  his 
attorney  came  at  the  appointed  hour  for  the  pur 
pose  of  preparing  the  papers  on  which  application  was  to 
be  made  for  his  discharge. 

"I  have  the  affidavits  all  ready,  I  believe,  Mr.  Page- 
brook,  and  we  have*only  to  make  a  complete  list  of  your 
property." 

"  That  will  be  easily  done,  sir,"  said  Robert,  with  a  feel 
ing  of  grim  amusement ;  "  as  I  have  literally  nothing  ex 
cept  my  trunk  and  its  contents." 

"You  have  your  claim  on  that  bank  for  money  de 
posited.  I  suppose  that  must  be  included,  though  it  is 
only  a  chose  in  action." 

"  0  put  it  in,  by  all  means,"  said  Robert.  "I  do  not 
wish  to  misrepresent  anything  or  to  withhold  anything. 
I  only  wish  the  chose  in  action,  as  you  call  it,  were  of 
sufficient  value  to  discharge  the  debt.  I  should  then 
quit  here  free  from  all  indebtedness,  except  to  you  for 
your  fee  ;  and  should  not  have  this  thing  to  pay.' 

"Your  discharge,  I  think,  will  free  you,  in  law, 
from " 


182  A   MAIsr   OF   HO:N"OR. 

"But  it  will  not  free  me  in  honor  sir.  It  will  give 
me  time,  however ;  and  the  very  first  use  I  shall  make  of 
that  time  will  be  to  earn  the  money  with  which  to  pay  off 
this,  my  only  debt.  I  should  never  ask  a  discharge  at  all 
if  the  asking  supposed  any  purpose  on  my  part  to  avoid 
the  payment  of  the  debt.  Pardon  me  ;  this  talk  must 
sound  odd  to  you,  coming  from  a  man  in  my  present 
position.  I  forgot  that  I  am  an  absconding  debtor.  You 
will  think  my  talk  a  cheap  kind  of  honesty,  costing 
nothing." 

"  No,  Pagebrook — if  you  will  allow  me  to  drop  the 
'  Mister' — I  should  trust  you  in  any  transaction,  though  I 
have  not  known  you  a  week.  I  don't  believe  you  are  an 
absconding  debtor,  and  Fm  not  going  to  believe  it  on  the 
strength  of  any  oaths  Messrs.  Steel,  jFlint  &  Sharp  may 
make."  As  he  said  this  the  young  lawyer  took  Robert's 
hand,  and  Eobert  found  himself  wholly  unable  to  utter  a 
word  by  way  of  reply.  He  did  not  want  to  shed  tears  in 
the  presence  of  his  jail  attendants,  but  the  lawyer  saw 
them  standing  in  his  eyes,  and  prevented  any  effort  at 
replying  by  turning  at  once  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

"Come,  Pagebrook,"  he  said,  "this  isn't  business. 
Let  me  see;  what  bank  was  it  that  you  deposited  with  ?" 

"  The  Essex,"  said  Robert. 

"The  Essex!"  said  the  lawyer.  "What  was  that  I 
saw  in  the  Tribune  this  morning  about  that  bank?  I 
think  it  was  the  Essex.  Let  me  see;"  running  his  eye 
over  the  columns  of  the  newspaper,  which  he  had  taken 
from  his  pocket. 

"  Ah  !  here  it  is.     By  George  !    My  dear  Pagebrook,  I 


:tf   OF  HOKOR.  183 


congratulate  you.  Your  bank  has  resumed.  See,  here 
is  the  item  : 

"'  PHILADELPHIA,  DEC.  3D.  —  The  Essex  Bank,  of 
this  city,  which  suspended  payment  some  weeks  since, 
will  resume  business  to-morrow.  Its  affairs  were  found 
to  be  in  a  very  favorable  condition,  and  at  a  meeting  of 
the  stockholders,  held  to-day,  the  deficit  in  its  assets  was 
covered,  and  its  capital  made  good  by  subscription.  It  is 
not  thought  that  any  run  will  be  made  upon  it,  but 
ample  preparations  have  been  made  to  meet  such  a  con 
tingency.' 

"Again  I  congratulate  you,  right  heartily." 

"  This  means  then,  that  my  sixteen  hundred  dollars  — 
that  was  the  total  amount  of  my  deposit  —  is  intact,  and 
that  I  may  check  against  it  as  soon  as  I  choose,  does  it  ?  " 

"Certainly." 

"  Then  let  us  suspend  our  preparations  for  securing  my 
release.  I  will  pay  out  of  this  instead  of  begging  out. 
I  will  draw  at  once  for  enough  to  cover  this  debt  and 
your  fees,  and  ask  you  to  put  the  draft  into  bank  for  col 
lection.  We  will  have  returns  by  the  day  after  to-mor 
row,  doubtless,  and  I  shall  then  go  out  of  here  with  my 
head  up." 

"  We'll  end  this  business  sooner  than  that,  Page- 
brook,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  Draw  your  draft,  I'll  indorse 
it,  take  it  to  the  bank  where  I  deposit,  get  it  cashed  at 
once,  and  have  you  out  of  here  in  time  for  a  two  o'clock 
lunch.  You'll  lunch  with  me,  of  course." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  you  have  no  means  of  knowing  that 
I  have  any  money  in  that  bank,"  said  Robert. 


184  A   MAX   OF   HOXOK. 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  have." 

"What  is  it?" 

' '  Your  word.     I  told  you  I  would  trust  you." 

Robert  looked  at  the  man  a  moment,  and  then  taking 
his  hand,  said  : 

"  I  accept  your  confidence  frankly.  Thank  you. 
Draw  the  draft,  please,  and  I  will  sign  it. " 

The  draft  was  soon  drawn,  and  at  two  o'clock  that  day 
— just  twenty-four  hours  after  his  arrest — Robert  sat 
down  to  lunch  with  his  friend,  in  a  down-town  eating- 
house. 

While  the  two  gentlemen  were  engaged  with  their 
lunch,  Robert's  friend  Dudley,  who  had  been  eating  a 
chop  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  espied  his  acquain 
tance,  and  approaching  him  said  : 

"  How  are  you,  Pagebrook  ?  Are  you  specially  en 
gaged  for  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"No,  I  believe  not,"  said  Robert.  "I  have  nothing 
to  do  except  to  finish  an  article  which  I  want  to  offer  you 
to-morrow,  and  I  can  do  that  to-night." 

"  Suppose  you  come  up  to  the  office,  then,  after  you 
finish  your  lunch.  I  want  to  talk  with  you. " 

"  I  will  be  there  within  half  an  hour,  if  that  will  suit 
you,"  said  Robert. 

"  Very  well ;  I'll  expect  you." 

Accordingly,  Robert  bade  his  friend  adieu  after  lunch, 
and  went  immediately  to  the  editor's  room. 

Mr.  Dudley  closed  the  door,  first  saying  to  his  messen 
ger,  who  sat  in  the  anteroom  ; 

"  I  shall  be  busy  for  some  time,  Eddie,  and  can't  see 


A  MAtf   OF   HCWOR.  185 

anybody.  If  any  one  calls,  tell  him  I  am  closeted  with  a 
gentleman  on  important  business  and  can  see  nobody. 
Now,  Pagebrook,"  he  resumed,  taking  his  seat,  "you 
ought  to  quit  teaching." 

"Why  ?"  asked  Eobert. 

"Well,  you're  a  born  writer  certainly,  and  if  I  am  not 
greatly  mistaken,  a  born  journalist  too.  You  have  a 
knack  of  knowing  just  what  points  people  want  to  hear 
about.  I've  been  struck  with  that  in  every  article  you 
have  written  for  me,  and  especially  in  this  last  one.  Do 
you  know  I've  rejected  no  less  than  a  dozen  well-writ 
ten  articles  on  that  very  subject,  just  because  they  treat 
ed  every  phase  of  it  except  the  right  one,  and  didn't  come 
within  a  mile  of  that.  Now  you've  hit  it  exactly,  as  you 
always  do.  You've  got  hold  of  precisely  the  things  that 
nobody  knows  anything  about  and  everybody  wants  to 
know  all  about,  and  that's  journalism." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Robert.  "  You  really  think,  then, 
that  I  might  make  myself  a  successful  journalist  if  I 
were  to  try  ?  " 

"  I  know  you  would.  You  have  precisely  the  right 
sort  of  ideas.  You  discriminate  between  the  things  that 
are  wanted  and  the  things  that  are  not.  I  have  long  since 
discovered  that  this  thing  that  men  call  writing  ability 
and  journalistic  ability  isn't  like  anything  else.  It  crops 
out  where  you  would  never  look  for  it,  and  where  you 
think  it  ought  to  be  it  isn't.  You  can't  coax  or  nurse 
it  into  existence  to  save  your  life.  If  a  man  has  it  he 
has  it,  and  if  he  hasn't  it  he  hasn't  it,  and  nobody  can 
give  it  to  him.  It  isn't  contagious,  and  I  honestly 


186  A.  MAN   OF   HONOR. 

believe  it  isn't  acquirable.  And  that's  why  I'm.  certain 
of  you.  You've  shown  that  you  have  it,  and  one 
showing  is  as  good  as  a  hundred." 

"I  am  greatly  pleased,"  said  Kobert,  "to  know  that 
you  think  so  well  of  me  in  this  respect,  for  I  have  resign 
ed  my  professorship  and  determined  to  make  my  way, 
to  the  best  of  my  ability,  as  a  journalist,  hereafter  ?  " 

"You  have?" 

<{  Yes ;  I  sent  my  letter  of  resignation  yesterday." 

"I'm  heartily  glad  of  it,  old  fellow,  and  selfishly  glad, 
too,  for  it  was  to  persuade  you  to  do  that  that  I  sat  down 
to  talk  to  you.  You  see  my  health  is  not  very  good 
lately ;  the  fact  is  I  have  been  using  the  spur  too  much, 
and  am  pretty  well  run  down  with  overwork.  The  pub 
lishers  have  been  urging  me  to  get  an  assistant,  and  the 
trouble  is  to  get  one  who  can  really  relieve  me  of  a  share 
of  the  work.  I  can  get  plenty  of  people  to  undertake  it, 
but  I  have  to  go  over  their  work  to  be  sure  of  it,  and  it's 
easier  to  do  it  myself  from  the  first.  Now  you  are  just 
the  man  I  want,  if  you  can  stand  the  salary.  The  pub 
lishers  will  let  me  pay  forty  dollars  a  week.  You  can 
make  more  than  that  from  the  outside,  I  suppose,  but 
it's  better  to  be  in  a  regular  situation,  I  think.  How 
would  you  like  to  try  the  thing  ?  " 

"Nothing  could  be  more  to  my  taste.  I  think  I  should 
like  this  better  than  daily  paper  work,  and  besides  it  gives 
one  a  better  opportunity  for  growth.  But  before  we  talk 
any  more  about  it  I  feel  myself  in  honor  bound  to  tell  you 
what  has  happened  to  me  lately.  If  you  care  then  to 
repeat  your  offer,  I  shall  gladly  accept  it,  but  if  you  feel 


A  MAX  OF  HOXOR.  187 

# 

the  slightest  hesitation  about  it,  I  shall  not  hlame  you  for 
not  renewing  it." 

And  Robert  told  him  everything,  but  Dudley  declined 
to  believe  that  there  had  been  any  just  cause  for  the 
arrest,  or  that  Robert  had  in  any  way  violated  the  strict 
est  canons  of  honor. 

This  young  man  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  perfect  master  of 
the  art  of  making  people  believe  in  him  in  spite  of  the 
most  damaging  facts.  Miss  Su  die's  faith  in  him  never 
wavered  for  an  instant.  Even  Billy  had  to  keep  a  synopsis 
of  the  evidence  against  his  cousin  constantly  in  mind  to 
keep  himself  from  "  believing  that  he  couldn't  see  through 
glass,"  as  he  phrased  it.  The  New  York  lawyer,  summon 
ed  to  get  the  young  man  out  of  jail,  backed  his  faith  in 
him,  as  we  have  seen,  by  indorsing  his  draft  for  several 
hundred  dollars ;  and  now  Dudley/  after  hearing  a  plain 
statement  of  the  facts  from  Robert's  own  lips,  dismissed 
them  as  of  no  consequence,  and  set  up  his  own  unrea 
sonable  faith  as  a  complete  answer  to  them.  He  renewed 
his  offer,  and  Robert  accepted  it,  becoming  office  editor 
of  the  weekly  paper  for  which  he  had  recently  been 
writing. 


188  A   MA^   OF   HONOK. 


CHAPTER      XXVIII. 

Major  Pagebrook  asserts  himself. 

IT  now  becomes  necessary  to  a  proper  understanding 
of  this  history  that  we  shall  go  back  a  day  or  two, 
to  the  day,  in  fact,  on  which  Robert's  letters  were  receiv 
ed  at  Shirley.  I  said  there  were  three  New  York  letters 
in  the  mail-bag  thrown  off  at  the  Court  House  that 
morning.  The  third  letter  there  referred  to  was  from 
the  law  firm  of  Steel,  Flint  &  Sharp.  It  was  addressed 
to  Edwin  Pagebrook,  Esq. ,  and  quite  by  accident  it  fell 
into  that  gentleman's  hands.  I  say  by  accident,  because 
Cousin  Sarah  Ann  had  taken  unusual  precautions  to  pre 
vent  precisely  this  result.  After  writing  to  the  lawyers, 
it  occurred  to  that  estimable  lady  that  a  reply  would  come 
in  due  time,  and  that  as  she  had  taken  the  liberty  of 
signing  her  husband's  name  to  her  letter,  the  reply  would 
be  addressed  to  him  rather  than  to  her,  and  she  greatly 
feared  that  he  would  have  an  opportunity  to  read  it. 
She  particularly  wished  that  this  should  not  happen. 
She  knew  her  mild-mannered  and  long-siiffermg  husband 
thoroughly,  and,  while  she  felt  free  to  torment  him  in 
various  ways,  she  had  learned,  from  one  or  two  bits  of 


A   MA^   OF  HOXOK.  189 

experience,  that  it  was  not  the  part  of  wisdom  to  tax  his 
endurance  too  far.  Accordingly  she  took  pains  to  pre 
vent  him  from  visiting  the  Court  House  while  she  was 
expecting  the  letter.  She  laid  various  plans  for  the  pur 
pose  of  keeping  him  occupied  on  the  plantation  every  day, 
and  took  care  to  secure  the  first  look  into  the  family  post- 
bag  whenever  the  servant  returned  with  it.  On  the 
morning  in  question,  however,  as  Maj.  Pagebrook  was 
riding  over  his  plantation,  inspecting  work,  he  met  a 
neighbor  who  was  going  to  the  Court  House,  and  having 
some  small  matters  to  attend  to  there  he  determined  to 
join  the  neighbor  in  his  ride.  Upon  his  arrival  he  called 
for  his  letters,  and  so  it  came  about  that  the  note  in 
which  Messrs.  Steel,  Flint  &  Sharp,  "begged  to  inform 
him "  of  Robert's  arrest  in  accordance  with  his  instruc 
tions,  fell  into  his  hands.  At  first  he  was  puzzled,  and 
thought  there  must  have  been  some  mistake,  but  after 
awhile  a  glimmering  of  the  truth  dawned  upon  him,  and 
in  his  smothered  way  he  was  exceedingly  angry.  He  had 
condemned  Robert's  misconduct  as  severely  as  anybody, 
but  had  never  dreamed  of  proceeding  to  harsh  measures 
in  the  matter.  Besides,  it  was  only  the  day  before  that 
Robert's  remittance  of  one  hundred  dollars  had  come  to 
him,  and,  in  acknowledging  its  receipt,  he  had  partially 
satisfied  his  resentment  by  telling  his  cousin  "what  he 
thought  of  him,"  and  to  learn  now  that  the  young  man 
was  in  jail  for  the  fault,  and  apparently  at  his  behest, 
was  sorely  displeasing  to  him.  And  worse  than  all,  his 
wife  had  taken  an  unwarrantable  liberty  in  the  affair,  and 
this  he  determined  to  resent.  He  mounted  his  horse, 


190  A    MAK    OF   IIO^OE,. 

therefore,  and  was  on  the  point  of  starting  homeward 
when  Dr.  Harrison  accosted  him. 

' '  G-ood  morning,  Maj.  Pagebrook.  May  I  speak  to  you 
a  moment  ?  " 

"  Good  morning,  Charles." 

"Has  there  been  any  administrator  appointed  for 
Ewing's  estate  ?  " 

"No,  not  yet.  I  reckon  I  must  take  out  papers  next 
court  day,  as  he  was  of  age  when  he  died.  It's  only  a 
matter  of  form,  I  reckon,  as  there  are  no  debts. " 

"Well,  my  only  reason  for  asking  is  I  hold  Ewing's 
note  for  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars.  I'm  in  no 
hurry,  only  I  wanted  to  act  regularly  and  get  it  in  shape 
by  presenting  it." 

"You  have  Ewing's  note?  Why,  what  is  it  for?" 
asked  Major  Pagebrook  in  astonishment. 

"  Borrowed  money,"  answered  the  doctor. 

"  Borrowed  money  ?  But  how  did  he  come  to  borrow 
it?" 

"Well,  the  fact  is  Ewing  got  to  playing  bluff  with 
Foggy  one  day  just  before  he  got  sick,  and  Foggy  fleeced 
him  pretty  badly,  and  I  lent  him  the  money  to  pay  out 
with.  He  didn't  want  to  owe  it  to  Foggy,  you  know." 

"  Have  you  the  note  with  you  ?"  asked  Maj.  Page- 
brook. 

"  No.  It's  in  my  office  ;  but  I  can  get  it  if  you'd  like 
to  look  at  it." 

"  No  ;  it's  no  matter,  if  you  can  tell  me  the  date." 

"It  bears  date  November  19th,  I  think." 

"  Just  one  day  after  he  came  of  age,"  said  Maj.  Page- 


A   MAtf   OF   HOKOK.  191 

brook.     "Well,  I'll  see  about  it,  Charles,"  and  with  this 
the  two  gentlemen  separated. 

Major  Pagebrook  rode  homeward,  meditating  upon  the 
occurrences  of  the  morning.  He  had  determined  to 
manage  his  own  business  hereafter  without  tolerating 
improper  interference  upon  the  part  of  his  wife,  and  he 
was  in  position  to  do  this,  too,  except  with  regard  to  the 
home  plantation,  which,  as  Ewing  had  informed  Robert, 
was  held  in  Cousin  Sarah  Ann's  name.  Major  Pagebrook 
was  a  quiet  man  and  a  long-suffering  one.  He  liked 
nothing  so  much  as  peace,  and  to  keep  the  peace  he  had 
always  yielded  to  the  more  aggressive  nature  of  his  wife. 
But  he  felt  now  that  the  time  had  come  for  him  to  assert 
his  supremacy  in  business  matters,  and  he  determined 
to  assert  it  very  quietly  but  very  positively.  One  point 
was  as  good  as  another,  he  thought,  for  the  purpose,  and 
this  newly-discovered  debt  of  Ewing's  gave  him  an  excel 
lent  occasion  for  the  self-assertion  upon  which  he  had 
resolved.  Several  times  of  late  he  had  mildly  suggested 
to  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  the  propriety  of  putting  Ewing's 
papers  into  Billy  Barksdale's  hands  for  examination,  so 
that  the  boy's  affairs  might  be  properly  and  legally  ad 
justed.  To  every  such  suggestion  Cousin  Sarah  Ann, 
who  carried  the  key  of  Ewing's  portable  desk,  had  turned 
a  deaf  ear,  saying  that  there  were  no  debts  one  way  or  the 
other,  and  that  she  "wouldn't  have  anybody  overhauling 
the  poor  boy's  private  papers."  Now,  however,  Major 
Pagebrook  had  made  up  his  mind  to  put  the  desk  into 
Billy's  hands  without  asking  the  excellent  lady's  con 
sent. 


198  A   MAK   OF   HOKOE. 

(t  Don't  take  my  horse,  Jim,"  lie  said  to  his  servant 
upon  arriving  at  home,  "  I  am  going  to  ride  again  pres 
ently.  Just  tie  him  to  the  rack  till  I  want  him." 

Going  into  the  house,  he  met  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  to 
whom  he  said  : 

(i  Sarah  Ann,  I  will  write  my  own  letters  and  attend  to 
my  own  business  hereafter,  and  I'll  thank  you  not  to  sign 
my  name  for  me  again.  You  have  placed  me  in  a  very 
awkward  position,  and  I  can't  explain  it  to  anybody  with 
out  exposing  you.  Understand  me  now,  please.  I  will 
not  tolerate  any  such  interference  in  future." 

Ordinarily  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  would  have  been  ready 
enough  with  a  reply  to  such  a  remark  as  this,  but  just 
now  she  was  fairly  frightened  by  her  husband's  tone  and 
manner.  She  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  in  very  serious 
earnest,  and  she  knew  him  well  enough  to  know  that  it 
would  not  do  to  provoke  him  further.  She  was  always 
afraid  of  him,  even  when  she  was  riding  rough-shod  over 
him.  When  he  seemed  most  submissive  and  she  most 
aggressive,  she  was  in  the  habit  of  scanning  his  counten 
ance  very  carefully,  as  an  engineer  watches  his  steam 
gauge.  When  she  saw  steam  rising,  she  usually  had  the 
safety  valve — a  flood  of  tears — ready  for  immediate  use. 
Just  now  she  saw  indications  of  an  explosion,  which  ap- 
palled  her,  and  she  dared  not  face  the  danger  for  a  mo 
ment.  Without  reply,  therefore,  she  sank,  weeping,  into 
the  nearest  chair,  while  her  husband  walked  into  her 
room,  opened  her  wardrobe,  and  took  from  it  the  little 
desk  in  which  his  son's  letters  and  papers  were  locked. 
Coming  back  to  her  he  said  : 


VERY    WELL,     THEN. 


194 


A  MAK   OF   HONOK.  195 

"  I  will  take  the  key  to  this  desk,  if  you  please." 

She  looked  up  with  a  frightened  countenance,  and 
asked  : 

"What  for?" 

"I  want  to  open  the  desk." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  I'm  going  to  put  it  into  my  lawyer's  hands." 

"  Wait  then.     I  must  look  over  the  papers  first." 

"No;   Billy  will  do  that." 

"But  there's  some  of  mine  in  it,  private  ones." 

"It  doesn't  matter.  Billy  will  sort  them  and  return 
yours  to  you." 

" But  he  sha'n't  look  at  my  papers." 

"Give  me  the  key,  Sarah  Ann." 

"I  can't.     It's  lost." 

"Very  well  then,"  said  he,  taking  his  knife  from  his 
pocket,  breaking  the  frail  lock,  and  walking  out  of  the 
house  without  another  word. 

Cousin  Sarah  Ann  was  thoroughly  overcome.  She 
knew  that  her  husband  had  received  the  reply  to  her 
letter,  which  she  had  meant  to  receive  herself,  and  she 
knew  too  that  her  mastery  over  him  was  at  an  end,  for 
the  present  at  least.  Worse  than  all,  she  knew  that  the 
desk  and  its  contents  would  inevitably  go  into  Billy 
Barksdale's  hands,  and  she  had  her  own  reasons  for  think 
ing  this  the  sorest  affliction  possible  to  her.  There  was 
no  help  for  it  now,  however,  and  she  could  do  nothing  ex 
cept  throw  herself  on  her  bed  and  shed  tears  of  bitter 
mortification,  vexation,  and  dread. 

Meanwhile  Major  Pagebrook  galloped  over  to  Shirley, 


196  A    MAJS    OE   HONOR. 

with  the  desk  under  his  arm.  The  conversation  already 
reported  between  Billy  and  Miss  Sudie,  was  hardly 
more  than  finished  when  he  dismounted  and  walked  into 
the  young  lawyer's  office. 

He  opened  his  business  by  telling  Billy  about  the 
note  held  by  Dr.  Harrison. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  he  said.  "  Harrison  says  the 
note  is  dated  November  19th,  which  was  just  one  day 
after  Ewing  came  of  age,  and  I  remember  that  Ewing 
was  taken  sick  on  the  morning  of  his  birthday—very  sick, 
as  you  know,  and  never  left  his  bed  afterwards." 

"When  was  Ewing  at  the  Court  House  last?"  asked 
Billy. 

"Not  since  the  day  Robert  left." 

"Did  he  owe  Harrison  any  money  that  you  know  of  ?" 

"No  ;  but  Harrison  says  Foggy  won  that  much  from 
him,  and  he  had  to  borrow  to  pay  it. " 

"You  are  sure,  however,  that  Ewing  could  not  pos 
sibly  have  had  a  chance  to  sign  the  note  after  he  came 
of  age?" 

( '  Of  course  he  couldn't.  He  was  delirious  from  the  very 
first,  and  we  never  left  him. " 

"I  think  I  see  how  it  is,"  said  Billy.  "Foggy  and 
Charley  Harrison  are  too  intimate  for  any  straight  deal 
ings.  I  reckon  Charley  was  as  deeply  interested  in  the 
winnings  as  Foggy  was,  but  they  have  made  Ewing  exe 
cute  the  note  to  Charley  for  money  borrowed  to  pay 
Foggy  with  so  that  it  would  be  legally  good.  They 
made  him  date  it  ahead,  too,  so  that  it  would  appear  to 
have  been  executed  after  Ewing  came  of  age.  They 


A   MAK   OF   HOKOR.  197 

didn't  anticipate  his  sickness,  and  they  haven't  thought 
to  compare  dates.  I  think  we  can  beat  them  this  time, 
when  they  get  ready  to  sue." 

"But  we  mustn't  let  them  sue,  Billy,"  said  Major 
Pagebrook.  "I  would •  never  consent  to  plead  the  baby 
act  or  to  get  out  of  it  by  any  legal  quibble  if  the  signa 
ture  is  genuine,  as  I  reckon  it  is.  That  wouldn't  be 
honorable.  No,  I  shall  pay  the  note  off ;  and  I  only  want 
to  know  whether  I  must  charge  it  to  Swing's  estate  or 
not,  after  taking  out  administration  papers.  If  I  can,  I 
ought  to,  in  justice  to  the  other  children.  If  I  can't, 
I  must  pay  it  myself.  Look  into  it,  please,  and  let  me 
know  about  it.  I  have  brought  you  Ewing's  desk,  so  you 
can  look  over  all  his  papers  and  attend  to  all  his  affairs 
for  me.  I  want  to  get  everything  straight."  So  saying 
he  took  his  leave. 


198  A  MAtf   OF  IIOtfOK. 


CHAPTER      XXIX. 

Mr.   Barksdale,   the    Younger,    Goes    upon    a  Journey, 

NOT  until  the  next  morning  did  Mr.  Billy  find  time 
to  examine  the  papers  in  Ewing's  desk.  Indeed, 
even  then  he  deemed  the  matter  one  of  very  little  conse 
quence,  inasmuch  as  the  papers,  whatever  they  might 
happen  to  be,  were  probably  of  no  legal  importance, 
being  of  necessity  the  work  of  a  minor.  There  might 
be  memoranda  there,  however,  and  possibly  a  will  dis 
posing  of  personal  property,  which,  under  the  law  of 
Virginia,  would  be  good  if  executed  by  a  minor  over 
eighteen  years  of  age. 

In  view  of  these  possibilities,  therefore,  Billy  sat  down 
to  the  task  of  examining  the  papers,  which  were  pretty 
numerous,  such  as  they  were.  After  awhile  he  became 
interested  in  the  very  miscellaneousness  of  the  assort 
ment.  Little  ^memoranda  were  there — of  the  date  on 
which  a  horse  had  been  shod  ;  of  the  amount  paid  for  a 
new  pair  of  boots ;  of  the  times  at  which  the  boy  had 
written  letters  to  his  friends,  and  of  a  hundred  other  un 
important  things.  There  were  bits  of  poor  verse,  too, 
such  as  may  be  found  in  the  desk  of  almost  every  boy. 


A   MAN   OF  HONOR.  199 

Old  letters,  full  of  nothing,  were  there  in  abundance,  but 
nothing  which  could  possibly  be  of  any  value  to  anybody. 
On  all  the  letters,  except  one,  was  marked,  in  Ewing's 
handwriting,  "To  be  burned  without  reading,  in  case  of 
my  death."  The  one  exception  attracted  Billy's  atten 
tion,  and  opening  it,  he  was  surprised  to  find  Robert 
Pagebrook's  name  appended  to  it.  It  was,  in  fact,  the 
letter  which  Cousin  Sarah  Ann  had  opened  during  her 
son's  last  illness.  After  reading  it  Mr.  Billy  sat  down  to 
think.  Presently,  looking  at  his  watch,  he  went  to  the 
door  and  called  a  servant. 

"  Go  and  ask  your  Miss  Sudie  to  put  two  or  three 
shirts,  and  some  socks  and  handkerchiefs  into  my  satchel 
for  me,  and  then  you  go  and  tell  Polidore  to  saddle  Gray- 
beard  and  the  bay,  and  get  ready  to  go  with  me  to  the 
Court  House  directly.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

The  servant  made  no  answer  to  the  question  with 
which  Mr.  Billy  closed  his  speech.  Indeed  that  gentle 
man  expected  none.  Virginians  always  ask  "do  you 
hear  ?  "  when  they  give  instructions  to  servants,  and  they 
never  get  or  expect  an  answer.  Without  the  question, 
however,  they  would  never  secure  attention  to  the  in 
struction.  To  say,  "do  so  and  so,"  without  adding,  "do 
you  hear  ? "  would  be  the  idlest  possible  waste  of  words 
on  the  part  of  any  one  giving  an  order  to  the  average 
Virginian  house  servant. 

Mr.  Billy  was  in  the  habit  of  making  sudden  journeys 
on  business,  without  giving  the  slightest  warning  to  the 
family  except  that  contained  in  a  request  that  his  satchel 
or  saddle-bags  be  packed,  so  that  Miss  Sudie  was  not  in 


200  A   MAtf   OF   HOXOR. 

the  least  surprised  when  his  present  message  came  to  her. 
She  was  surprised,  however,  when,  instead  of  riding 
away  without  a  word  of  farewell,  as  he  usually  did,  he 
came  into  the  house,  and,  kissing  her  tenderly,  said  : 

"Keep  your  spirits  up,  Sudie,  and  don't  let  things 
worry  you  too  much.  Fm  going  to  Kichmond  on  the  two 
o'clock  train,  and  don't  know  how  long  I'll  be  gone. 
Good-by,  little  girl,"  and  he  kissed  her  again.  All 
this  was  quite  out  of  character,  Miss  Sudie  felt.  Billy 
was  affectionate  enough,  at  all  times,  but  he  detested 
leave-takings,  and  always  avoided  them  when  he  could. 
To  seek  one  was  quite  unlike  him,  and  Miss  Sudie  was 
puzzled  to  know  what  prompted  him  to  do  it  on  this  par 
ticular  occasion.  He  rode  away,  however,  without  offer 
ing  any  explanation  whatever. 

Mr.  Billy  went  to  Richmond,  as  he  had  said  he  in 
tended  doing,  but  he  did  not  remain  there  an  hour.  He 
went  to  the  cashier  of  a  bank,  a  gentleman  with  whom 
he  was  well  acquainted,  got  from  him  a  letter  of  introduc 
tion  to  a  prominent  man  in  Philadelphia,  and  left  for 
that  city  on  the  first  train. 

Arriving  in  Philadelphia  about  nine  o'clock  the  next 
day,  Mr.  Billy  ate  a  hasty  breakfast  and  proceeded  to 
the  little  collegiate  institute  in  which  Eobert  had  once 
been  a  professor,  as  the  reader  will  remember.  Intro 
ducing  himself  to  President  Currier  he  asked  for  a 
private  interview,  and  was  invited  for  the  purpose  into 
Dr.  Currier's  inner  office. 

"  I  believe,  doctor, "he  said,  after  telling  that  gentleman 
who  he  was,  "  that  there  was  something  due  Professor 


A  MAN  OF  HONOR.  201 

Pagebrook  on  his  salary  at  the  time  his  connection  with 
this  college  terminated,  was  there  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  there  was  about  three  hundred  dollars  due 
him,  if  I  remember  correctly,  but  it  has  been  paid,  I 
think." 

"  Have  you  any  way  of  ascertaining  precisely  how  and 
when? "asked  Billy. 

"  Yes  ;  my  own  letter-book  should  show.  Let  me  see," 
turning  over  the  leaves,  "Ah,  here  it  is.  A  draft  for  the 
amount  was  sent  to  him  by  letter  on  the  eighth  of  Novem 
ber,  addressed  to Court  House,  Virginia." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Billy.  "  The  draft,  I  suppose,  was 
regular  New  York  Exchange  ?  " 

"Of  course." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  from  what  bank  you 
bought  it,  and  to  whose  order,  in  the  first  place,  it  was 
made  payable  ?  Pardon  my  asking  such  questions,  but  I 
need  this  information  for  use  in  the  cause  of  justice." 

"  0  you  need  offer  no  apology,  I  assure  you,  sir,"  re 
turned  the  president.  "I  have  nothing  to  conceal  in  the 
matter.  The  draft  was  drawn  by  the  Susquehanna 
Bank,  and  to  my  order,  I  think.  Yes,  I  remember 
indorsing  it." 

" Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Billy.  "You  are  very  courte 
ous,  and  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  information  which  I 
should  have  found  it  difficult  to  get  from  any  other 
source.  Good  morning,  sir." 

Leaving  the  college,  which  was  situated  in  one  of  the 
suburbs,  Mr.  Billy  took  a  carriage  and  drove  into  the 
city.  There  he  delivered  his  letter  of  introduction,  and 


203  A   MAH    OF   HOKOB. 

secured  from  the  gentleman  to  whom  it  was  addressed  a 
personal  introduction  to  the  cashier  of  the  Susquehanna 
Bank.  To  this  latter  person  he  said  : 

"I  am  looking  up  evidence  in  a  case,  and,  if  I  am  not 
greatly  mistaken,  you  can  help  me  in  an  effort  to  set 
a  wrong  right.  On  the  eighth  of  last  month  you  sold  a 
draft  on  New  York  for  three  hundred  dollars,  payable  to 
the  order  of  David  Currier.  Now,  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  business  I  suppose  that  draft  has  been  returned  to  you 
after  payment." 

"  Yes,  if  it  was  paid  before  the  first  of  the  month.  "We 
settle  with  our  New  York  correspondents  once  a  month. 
I'll  look  at  the  last  batch  of  returned  checks  and  see." 

"  Thank  you.  I  should  be  glad  to  see  the  indorse 
ments  on  the  paper,  if  possible." 

The  cashier  went  to  the  vault,  and  returning  with  a 
large  bundle  of  canceled  checks  soon  found  the  one 
wanted.  Billy  turned  it  over  and  examined  the  indorse 
ments  on  the  back.  Then,  turning  to  the  banker, 
he  asked  : 

"Would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  get  temporary  pos 
session  of  this  draft  by  depositing  the  amount  of  its  face 
with  you  until  its  return  ?  " 

"You  merely  wish  it  for  use  in  evidence  ?"  asked  the 
banker. 

"That's  all,"  said  Billy. 

"You  can  take  it,  then,  without  a  deposit,  Mr.  Barks- 
dale.  It  is  of  no  value  now,  but  we  usually  keep  our 
canceled  exchange,  so  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  return 
this  when  you've  done  with  it." 


A   MAtf   OF   HONOR.  203 

This  was  precisely  what  Robert  had  come  to  Philadel 
phia  to  secure,  and  after  finding  what  the  indorsements 
on  the  draft  were,  he  would  willingly  have  paid  its  face 
outright,  if  that  had  been  necessary,  to  get  possession 
of  it. 

Who  knows  what  the  value  of  a  bit  of  writing  may  be, 
even  after  its  purpose  has  to  all  appearance  been  fully 
answered  ?  I  know  a  great  commercial  house  in  which 
it  is  an  inexorable  law  that  no  bit  of  paper  once  written 
on  in  the  way  of  business  shall  ever  be  destroyed,  how 
ever  valueless  it  may  seem  to  be ;  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  the  wisdom  of  the  rule  has  been  strikingly  made 
manifest.  So  it  was  with  this  paid,  canceled,  and  re 
turned  draft.  Worthless  in  all  eyes  but  his,  to  Billy  it 
was  far  more  precious  than  if  it  had  been  crisp  and  new, 
and  payable  to  his  own  order. 


204  A   MAN  OF  HONOR. 


\ 

CHAPTER    XXX. 


The  younger  Mr.  BarJcsdale  Asks  to  be  put  upon  His 

Oath. 


IT  was  nearly  noon  when  the  train  which  brought 
Billy  Barksdale  back  from  Philadelphia  stopped  at 
the  Court  House,  and  that  young  gentleman  went  from 
the  station  immediately  to  the  court  room,  where  the 
Circuit  Court,  as  he  knew,  was  in  session. 

"Has  the  grand  jury  been  impaneled  yet  ?"  he  asked 
the  commonwealth's  attorney. 

"  Yes ;  it  has  just  gone  out,  but  as  usual  there  is  noth 
ing  for  it  to  do,  so  it  will  report  'no  bills'  in  an  hour  or 
so,  I  reckon." 

"Have  me  sworn  and  sent  before  it  then,"  said  Billy. 
"I  think  I  can  put  it  in  the  way  of  finding  something 
to  do." 

The  official  was  astonished,  but  he  lost  no  time  in  com 
plying  with  the  rather  singular  request.  Billy  went 
before  the  grand  jury,  and  remained  there  for  a  consider 
able  time.  This  was  a  very  unusual  occurrence  in  every 
way,  and  it  quickly  produced  a  buzz  of  excitement  in  and 
about  the  building.  There  was  rarely  ever  anything  for 
grand  juries  to  do  in  this  quiet  county,  and  when  there 


A   MAtf   OF   HONOK. 

was  anything  it  usually  hinged  upon  some  publicly 
known  and  talked  of  matter.  Everybody  knew  in  ad 
vance  what  it  was  about,  and  the  probable  result  was  easy 
to  predict.  Now,  however,  all  was  mystery.  A  promi 
nent  young  lawyer  had  been  sworn  and  sent  before  the 
grand  jury  at  his  own  request,  and  the  length  of  time 
during  which  he  was  detained  there  effectually  dispelled 
the  belief  which  at  first  obtained,  that  he  merely  wanted 
to  secure  the  presentment  of  some  negligent  road  over 
seer.  Even  the  commonwealth's  attorney  could  not  man 
age  to  look  wise  enough,  as  he  sat  there  stroking  his 
beard,  to  deceive  anybody  into  the  belief  that  he  knew 
what  was  going  on.  The  minutes  were  very  long  ones. 
The  excitement  soon  extended  beyond  the  court  house, 
and  everybody  in  the  village  was  on  tiptoe  with  suppressed 
curiosity.  The  court  room  was  full  to  overflowing  when 
Billy  came  quietly  out  of  the  grand  jury's  apartment  and 
took  his  seat  in  the  bar  as  if  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary 
course  of  affairs  had  happened. 

It  did  not  tend  to  allay  the  excitement,  certainly,  when 
the  deputy  sheriff  on  duty  at  the  door  of  the  jury  room 
beckoned  to  the  commonwealth's  attorney  and  that 
gentleman  went  up-stairs  three  steps  at  a  time,  disappear 
ing  within  the  chamber  devoted  to  the  secret  inquest  and 
remaining  there.  When  half  an  hour  later  Major  Edwin 
Pagebrook  was  called,  sworn  and  sent  up  as  a  witness, 
wild  rumors  of  a  secret  crime  among  the  better  classes 
began  to  circulate  freely  in  the  crowd,  starting  from  no 
where  and  gradually  taking  definite  shape  as  they  spread 
from  one  to  another  of  the  eager  villagers* 


206  A   MAN   OF  HOSTOK. 

• 

The  excitement  was  now  absolutely  painful  in  its  inten 
sity,  and  even  the  judge  himself  began  walking  restlessly 
back  and  forth  in  the  space  set  apart  for  the  bench. 

When  Major  Pagebrook  came  out  of  the  room  with  a 
downcast  face  he  went  immediately  home,  and  Kosen- 
water,  a  merchant  in  the  village,  was  called.  When  he 
came  out,  distinct  efforts  were  made  to  worm  the  secret 
from  him.  He  was  mindful  of  his  oath,  however,  and 
refused  to  say  anything. 

Finally  the  members  of  the  grand  jury  marched  slowly 
down  stairs,  and  took  their  stand  in  front  of  the  clerk's 
desk. 

"Poll  the  grand  jury,"  said  the  judge.  When  that 
ceremony  was  over,  the  question  which  everybody  in  the 
building  had  been  mentally  asking  for  hours  was  formu 
lated  by  the  court. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  grand' jury,  have  you  any  present 
ments  to  make  ?  " 

"  We  have,  your  honor,"  answered  the  foreman. 

"Bead  the  report  of  the  grand  jury,  Mr.  Clerk." 

The  official  rose  and  after  adjusting  his  spectacles  very 
deliberately,  read  aloud  : 

"  We,  the  grand  jury,  on  our  oaths  present  Dr.  Charles 
Harrison  and  James  Madison  Eaves,  for  forgery  and  for  a 
conspiracy  to  defraud  Edwin  Pagebrook,  on  or  about  the 
tenth  day  of  November  in  this  present  year  within  the 
jurisdiction  of  this  honorable  court." 

The  crowd  was  fairly  stunned.  Nobody  knew  or  could 
guess  what  it  meant.  The  commonwealth's  attorney  was 
the  first  to  speak. 


A  MAK  OF  HOKOB.  207 

"As  the  legal  representative  of  the  commonwealth,  I 
move  the  court  to  issue  a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of 
Charles  Harrison  and  James  Madison  Eaves,  and  I  ask 
that  the  grand  jury  be  instructed  to  return  to  their  room 
and  to  put  their  indictments  in  proper  form." 

The  two  men  thus  accused  of  crime  being  present  in 
court  were  taken  in  charge  by  the  sheriff. 

"If  the  commonwealth's  attorney  has  no  further 
motions  to  make  in  this  case/'  said  the  judge,  "  the 
court  will  take  a  recess,  in  order  to  give  time  for  the  pre 
paration  of  indictments  in  due  form." 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  said  the  official  addressed, 
"  I  have  only  to  ask  that  your  honor  will  instruct  the 
sheriff  to 'separate  the  two  prisoners  during  the  recess.  I 
do  not  know  that  this  is  necessary,  but  it  may  tend  to 
further  the  interests  of  justice." 

"  The  court  sees  no  reason  to  refuse  the  request,"  said 
the  judge.  "Mr.  Sheriff,  you  will  see  that  your  two 
prisoners  are  not  allowed  to  confer  together  in  any  way 
until  after  the  reassembling  of  the  court,  at  four 
o'clock." 


208  A  MAN   OF  HONOR. 


CHAPTER     XXXI. 
Mr.  William  Barksdale  Explains. 

PRECISELY  what  Dr.  Harrison's  emotions  were 
when  he  found  himself  in  the  sheriff  '&  hands, 
nobody  is  likely  ever  to  know,  as  that  gentleman  was 
always  of  taciturn  mood  in  matters  closely  concerning 
himself,  and  on  the  present  occasion  was  literally 
dumb. 

With  Foggy  the  case  was  different.  He  was  always  a 
prudent  man.  He  was  not  given  to  the  taking  of  unnec 
essary  risks  for  the  sake  of  abstract  principles.  He  made 
no  pretensions  to  the  possession  of  heroic  fortitude  under 
affliction,  and  he  had  no  special  reputation  for  high- 
toned  honor  to  lose.  The  clutch  of  the  law  was  to  him 
an  uncomfortable  one,  and  he  was  prepared  to  escape  it 
by  any  route  which  might  happen  to  be  open  to  him. 
This  disposition  upon  his  part  was  an  important  factor  in 
the  problem  which  Billy  had  set  out  to  solve.  He  knew 
Foggy  was  a  moral  coward,  and  upon  his  cowardice  he 
depended,  in  part,  for  the  success  of  his  undertaking. 

As  soon  as  court  adjourned  the  commonwealth's  at 
torney  requested  the  members  of  the  grand  jury  to  make 


A   MAN   OF   HONOR.  209 

themselves  as  comfortable  as  might  be  while  he  should 
be  engaged  in  the  preparation  of  formal  indictments 
against  the  two  prisoners.  Going  then  to  his  office  he 
closeted  himself  with  Billy  Barksdale,  who  had  preceded 
him  thither  by  his  request. 

"You'll  help  me  with  this  prosecution,  won't  you 
Billy?  "he  asked. 

' '  With  as  good  a  will  as  I  ever  carried  to  a  fish  fry," 
said  Billy. 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  attorney,  "tell  me  just  how 
the  thing  stands.  I  confess  I'm  all  in  a  jumble  about  it. 
Begin  at  the  beginning  and  tell  the  whole  story.  Then 
we'll  know  where  we  stand  and  how  to  proceed." 

Accordingly  Billy  recounted  the  history  of  the  pro 
tested  draft ;  the  promise  to  pay  ;  its  nonfulfillment  and 
the  trouble  which  ensued.  He  then  continued  : 

"  My  suspicions  as  to  the  real  facts  of  the  case  were 
aroused  by  accident.  Maj.  Pagebrook  consulted  me  a  few 
days  ago  about  a  note  signed  by  Ewing  Pagebrook, 
drawn  in  favor  of  Charley  Harrison,  which,  Harrison  said, 
had  been  given  him  when  he  advanced  money  to  Ewing 
with  which  to  pay  a  gambling-  debt  to  Foggy.  That  note 
was  evidently  dated  ahead,  as  it  bore  date  of  November 
19th,  one  day  after  Ewing  attained  his  majority,  when,  in 
fact,  the  boy  was  taken  ill  on  the  morning  of  his  twenty- 
first  birthday,  and  never  left  his  bed  afterwards.  This 
confirmed  me  in  the  belief  that  Foggy  and  Harrison  were 
confederates  in  their  gambling  operations.  They  fleeced 
the  boy,  and  then  had  him  borrow  the  money  with  which 
to  pay  from  Harrison,  and  give  a  note  for  it,  so  as  to 


210  A   MAK   OF   HONOR. 

make  the  consideration  good ;  and  they  took  pains  to 
have  him  date  it  ahead,  so  as  to  get  rid  of  the  minority 
trouble.  This  by  itself  would  have  amounted  to  nothing, 
but  in  looking  over  Ewing's  papers  I  found  a  letter  there 
from  Bob  Pagebrook,  which  I  happened  accidentally  to 
know  was  received  during  Ewing's  illness.  Here  it  is.  I'll 
read  it. 

"  '  MY  DEAR  EWIKG  : — I  can  not  tell  you  how  grieved 
I  am  at  the  news  your  letter  brings  me.  I  can  ill  afford 
to  lose  the  three  hundred  dollars  which  I  intrusted  to 
you  to  hand  to  your  father,  and  even  if  you  do  make  it 
good  when  you  come  of  age,  as  you  so  solemnly  promise 
me  you  will,  I  am,  meanwhile,  placed  in  a  very  awkward 
position  with  regard  to  it.  I  promised  your  father  to  pay 
him  that  money  by  a  certain  day,  and  was  greatly  pleased, 
as  you  know,  when,  upon  arriving  at  the  Court  House  on 
my  way  north,  I  found  the  remittance  awaiting  me  there, 
as  it  enabled  me  to  make  the  payment  in  advance  of  the 
time  agreed  upon.  When  I,  in  my  haste  to  catch  the 
train,  gave  you  the  check  to  give  to  your  father,  I  dis 
missed  the  subject  from  my  mind,  and  set  about  the 
work  of  repairing  my  fortunes  with  a  light  heart,  little 
thinking  that  matters  would  turn  out  as  they  have. 

"  '  But  while  I  am  sorely  annoyed  by  the  fact  that  this 
may  place  me  in  an  awkward  position,  I  am  willing  to 
trust  my  reputation  in  your  hands.  Remember  that  you 
are  now  bound  in  honor,  not  merely  to  pay  this  money  as 
soon  as  you  shall  attain  your  majority,  but  also  to  protect 
me  from  undeserved  disgrace  by  frankly  stating  the  facts 
of  the  case  to  your  father  in  the  event  of  his  entertain- 


A   MAtf   OF   HO^OK.  211 

ing  doubts  of  my  integrity.  This  much  you  are  in  honor 
bound  to  do  in  any  case,  and  you  have  also  given  me  your 
word  that  you  will  do  it.  If  your  father  shall  seem  dis 
posed  to  think  me  not  unduly  dilatory  in  the  matter  of 
payment,  you  need  tell  him  nothing.  You  may  spare 
yourself  that  mortification,  •  send  me  the  money,  and 
I  will  remit  it  to  him,  merely  saying  that  unavoidable 
circumstances  which  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  explain  have 
prevented  the  earlier  payment  which  I  intended  to  make. 
"'But  in  agreeing  to  do  this,  Ewing,  I  am  moved 
solely  by  my  desire  to  shield  you  from  disgrace  and  conse 
quent  ruin.  When  I  gave  you  that  money  for  your 
father  it  was  a  sacred  trust,  and  in  converting  it  to  other 
uses  you  not  only  wronged  me,  but  you  made  yourself 
guilty  of  something  very  like  a  crime.  Pardon  me  if  I 
speak  plainly,  for  I  am  speaking  only  for  your  good  and 
I  speak  only  to  you.  I  want  you  to  understand  how 
terribly  wrong  and  altogether  dishonorable  your  act  was, 
so  that  you  may  never  be  guilty  of  another  such.  I  am 
not  disposed  to  reproach  you,  but  I  do  want  to  warn  you. 
You  are  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  and  you  have  no  right 
to  bring  disgrace  upon  your  father's  name.  You  ought 
not  to  gamble,  and  if  you  do  gamble  you  have  no  right 
to  surrender  your  honor  in  payment  of  your  losses.  I 
promise  you,  as  you  ask  me  to  do,  that  I  will  not  tell 
what  you  have  done ;  and  you  know  I  never  break  a 
promise  under  any  circumstances  whatever.  But  in 
promising  this  I  place  my  own  reputation  in  your  keep 
ing,  depending  upon  you,  in  the  event  of  necessity,  to 
frankly  acknowledge  your  fault,  so  that  I  may  not 


212  A   MAH   OF   HOKOR. 

appear  to  have  run  away  from  a  debt  which  in  fact  I 
have  paid.' 

"  When  I  read  that  letter/'  continued  Billy,  "  I  began 
to  see  daylight.  Bob  had  given  his  word  of  honor  to 
Ewing  not  to  expose  him.  Ewing  had  died  before  he 
could  make  the  money  matter  good,  and  Bob,  like  the 
great,  big,  honorable,  dear  old  fellow  that  he  is,  allowed 
himself  to  go  to  jail  and  bear  the  reputation  of  an  ab 
sconding  debtor,  rather  than  break  his  promise  to  the 
dead  boy.  He  paid  the  money  again,  too.  I  suspected, 
of  course,  that  Foggy  and  Charley  Harrison  were  mixed 
up  in  the  matter  some  way,  particularly  as  the  very  last 
visit  Ewing  ever  made  to  the  Court  House  was  made  on 
the  day  that  Bob  went  away.  I  went  to  Phila 
delphia,  and  there  found  the  canceled  draft,  drawn  in 
favor  of  David  Currier  ;  indorsed  to  Robert  Pagebrook ; 
and  by  him  indorsed  to  Edwin  Pagebrook.  Then  fol 
lowed,  as  you  know,  an  indorsement  to  James  M.  Raves, 
signed  '  E.  Pagebrook. '  That,  of  course,  was  written  by 
Ewing,  who  at  the  suggestion  of  these  two  men  made 
the  draft  over  to  them — or  to  one  of  them — by  signing 
his  own  name,  which  happened,  when  written  with  the 
initial  only,  to  be  the  same  as  his  father's.  Foggy  then 
indorsed  it  to  Harrison,  and  he,  being  respectable,  had 
no  difficulty  in  getting  Rosenwater  to  cash  it  for  him. 
It  never  entered  Rosenwater's  head,  of  course,  to  ques 
tion  any  of  the  signatures  back  of  Harrison's.  Now  my 
theory  is  that  this  draft  did  not  cover  Ewing's  losses  by 
two  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars ;  and  so  the  two 
thrifty  gentlemen  made  the  boy  execute  the  note  that 


A   MAK   OF   HONOK.  213 

Harrison  holds  for  that  amount,  dating  it  ahead,  and 
making  it  for  borrowed  money. " 

"You're  right,  Barksdale,  without  a  doubt,"  said  the 
commonwealth's  attorney ;  "  but  how  are  we  going  to 
make  a  jury  see  it  ?  There's  plenty  of  evidence  to  found 
an  indictment  on,  but  I'm  afraid  there  a'n't  enough  to 
secure  a  conviction." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Billy.  "But  we  must  do  our  very 
best.  If  we  can't  convict  both,  we  may  one  ;  and  even 
if  we  fail  altogether  in  the  prosecution,  we  will  at  least 
expose  the  rascals,  and  this  county  will  be  too  hot  for 
them  afterwards.  Foggy  is  always  shaky  in  the  knees, 
and  if  we  give  him  half  a  chance  will  turn  state's  evi 
dence.  Why  not  sound  him  on  the  subject  ?" 

Foggy  needed  very  little  sounding  indeed.  At  the 
first  intimation  that  there  might  be  hope  for  him  if  he 
would  tell  what  he  knew  he  volunteered  a  confession, 
which  bore  out  Billy's  theory  to  the  letter.  From  his 
statement,  too,  it  appeared  that  Harrison  was  the  author 
of  the  whole  scheme.  He  had  overborne  Swing's 
scruples,  and  by  dint  of  threats  compelled  him  to  com 
mit  a  practical  forgery  by  writing  his  own  name  in  such 
a  way  as  to  make  it  appear  to  be  his  father's.  While 
Foggy  was  at  it  he  made  a  clean  breast,  telling  all  about 
his  partnership  with  Harrison  in  the  gambling  opera 
tions,  and  admitting  that  the  note  Harrison  held  was 
dated  ahead  and  given  ^solely  for  a  gambling  debt. 

The  commonwealth's  attorney  agreed  to  enter  a  nolle 
prosequi  in  Foggy's  case,  and  to  transfer  him,  at  the 
trial,  from  the  prisoner's  box  to  the  witness  stand.  .X 


A   MAN"   OF   HO^OR. 

When  Billy  came  out  from  this  conference  he  found 
Major  Pagebrook  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  speak  to 
him.  The  major,  it  seems,  after  going  home  had  re 
turned  to  the  Court  House. 

"  Billy,"  he  said,  "  I  know  now  about  that  letter  from 
Robert  to  Ewing.  Sarah  Ann  has  told  me  she  read  it 
when  it  came.  What  is  to  be  done  about  it  ?  " 

"Nothing/'  said  Billy,  "except  that  you  will  of  course 
return  Robert  the  extra  three  hundred  dollars  he  has 
paid  you." 

"Of  course  I'll  do  that.  But  I  mean — the  fact  is  I 
don't  want  that  letter  to  appear  on  the  trial.  You  will 
have  to  tell  where  you  got  it,  and  it  will  come  out,  in 
spite  of  everything,  that  Sarah  Ann  knew  of  it." 

"Well,  Cousin  Edwin,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  This  has 
been  a  wretched  business  from  first  to  last.  Poor  Bob 
has  suffered  severely  for  E wing's  fault,  and — I  must  speak 
plainly — through  Cous — through  your  wife's  iniquity. 
Not  only  has  he  had  to  pay  the  money  twice,  he  has  been 
sent  to  jail,  and  but  for  a  lucky  accident  his  reputation  as 
an  honorable  man  would  have  been  destroyed  forever,  and 
that  merely  to  gratify  your  wife's  petty  and  unreasonable 
spite  against  him.  It  became  my  duty  to  unravel  this 
mystery  for  the  sake  of  freeing  Bob  from  an  unjust  and 
undeserved  disgrace.  In  doing  that  I  have  accidentally 
stumbled  upon  the  discovery  of  a  crime,  and  even  if  it 
were  not  illegal  I  am  not  the  man  to  compound  a  felony. 
For  you  I  am  heartily  sorry,  but  your  wife  is  only  reaping 
what  she  has  sown.  I  would  do  anything  honorable  to 
spare  your  feelings,  Cousin  Edwin,  but  I  can  not  help 


A  MAN   OF  HONOR.  215 

giving  evidence  in  this  case.  I  really  do  not  see,  however, 
precisely  how  Bob's  letter  can  be  used  as  evidence.  If  it 
had  been  sufficient  in  itself  to  establish  the  facts  to  which 
it  referred  I  should  have  used  it  to  set  Bob  right,  and  the 
thing  would  have  ended  there.  But  Bob's  statement  was 
of  course  an  interested  one,  and  I  feared  that  after  a  time, 
if  not  immediately,  gossip  would  seize  upon  that  point  and 
say  the  whole  thing  was  made  up  merely  to  clear  Bob.  I 
knew  he  would  never  show  Swing's  letter  to  which  his 
was  a  reply,  and  so  I  set  myself  to  work  hunting  up  the 
draft.  I  don't  see  how  the  letter  can  well  come  up  on 
the  trial,  but  if  it  should  become  necessary  for  me  to  tell 
about  it,  I  must  tell  all  about  it,  of  course." 

Major  Pagebrook  walked  away,  his  head  bowed  as  if 
there  were  a  heavy  weight  upon  his  shoulders,  and  Billy 
pitied  him  heartily.  This  woman,  who,  in  her  ground 
less  malignity,  had  wrought  so  much  wrong  and  brought 
so  much  of  sorrow  upon  the  good  old  man,  was  his  wife, 
and  he  could  not  free  himself  from  the  fact  or  its  conse 
quences.  He  had  never  willingly  done  a  wrong  in  his 
life,  and  it  seemed  peculiarly  hard  that  he  should  now 
have  to  suffer  so  sorely  for  the  sins  of  the  woman  whom 
he  called  wife. 


216  A   MAN   OF  HONOR. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Which  Is  also  The  Last. 

UPON  leaving  Major  Pagebrook  Billy  mounted  his 
horse  and  galloped  away  toward  Shirley,  not  caring 
to  remain  till  the  court  should  reassemble  at  four,  as 
there  could  hardly  be  any  business  done  beyond  the 
formal  presentation  of  the  indictments  by  the  grand  jury 
and  the  committal  of  the  prisoners  to  await  trial. 

When  he  entered  the  yard  gate  at  Shirley  he  found 
his  father,  who  had  returned  from  the  court  house  some 
time  before,  awaiting  him. 

"I  have  not  told  Sudie,  my  son,"  said  the  old  gentle 
man.  "  I  found  it  hard  to  keep  my  lips  closed,  but  you 
have  managed  this  affair  grandly,  my  boy,  and  you  ought 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  telling  the  story  in  your  own  way. 
Go  into  the  office,  and  I'll  send  Sudie  to  you. " 

Miss  Sudie  was  naturally  enough  alarmed  when  her 
uncle,  repressing  everything  like  an  expression  of  joy, 
and  in  doing  that  managing  to  look  as  solemn  as  a  death 
warrant,  told  her  that  Billy  wanted  to  see  her  in  the  office 
immediately.  But  Billy's  look,  as  she  entered,  reassured 
her.  He  met  her  just  inside  the  door,  and  taking  her 
face  between  his  hands,  said  : 


"  I'M  AS  PROUD  AND  AS  GLAD  AS  A  BOY  WITH  RED  MOROCCO  TOPS  TO 

HIS  BOOTS." 
218 


A   MAtf   OF  HONOR. 

"  I'm  as  proud  and  as  glad  as  a  boy  with  red  morocco 
tops  to  his  boots,  little  girl." 

"What  about,  Cousin  Billy?"  asked  Miss  Sudie  in  a 
tremor  of  uncertainty. 

"  Because  I've  been  doing  the  duty  you  set  me.  I've 
been  'turning  something  up.'  I've  torn  the  mask  off  of 
that  dear  old  rascal  Bob  Pagebrook,  and  shown  him  up 
in  his  true  colors.  It's  just  shameful  the  way  he's  been 
deceiving  us,  making  us  think  him  an  absconding  debtor 
and  all  that  when  he  a'n't  anything  of  the  sort.  He's  as 
true  as — as  you  are.  There;  that's  a  figure  of  speech 
he'd  approve  if  he  could  hear  it,  and  he  shall  too.  I'm 
going  to  write  him  a  letter  to-night,  telling  him  just 
what  I  think  of  him." 

There  was  a  little  flutter  in  Miss  Sudie's  manner  as  she 
sat  down,  unable  to  stand  any  longer. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  please,"  was  all  she  could  say. 

"  Well,  in  a  word,  Bob's  all  right,  with  a  big  balance 
over.  He's  as  straight  as  a  well  rope  when  the  bucket's 
full.  Let  me  make  you  understand  that  in  advance,  and 
then  I'll  tell  my  story." 

And  with  this  Billy  proceeded  in  his  own  way  to  tell 
the  young  woman  all  about  the  visit  to  Philadelphia  and 
its  results.  When  he  had  finished  Miss  Sudie  simply  sat 
and  looked  at  him,  smiling  through  her  tears  the  thank 
fulness  she  could  not  put  into  words.  When  after  awhile 
she  found  her  voice  she  said  some  things  which  were  very 
pleasant  indeed  to  Mr.  Billy  in  the  hearing. 

The  next  day's  mail  carried  three  letters  to  Mr.  Eobert 
Pagebrook.  What  Miss  Sudie  said  in  hers  I  do  not  know, 


220  A  MAN   OF   HONOR. 

and  if  I  did  I  should  not  tell.  Col.  Barksdale  wrote  in  a 
stately  way,  as  he  always  did  when  he  meant  to  be  par 
ticularly  affectionate,  the  gist  of  his  letter  lying  in  the 
sentence  with  which  he  opened  it,  which  was  : 

"  I  did  not  know,  until  now,  how  much  of  your  father 
there  is  in  you." 

Mr.  Billy's  letter  would  make  the  fortune  of  any  comic 
paper  if  it  could  be  published.  Eobert  insists  that  there 
were  just  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  hitherto  unheard 
of  metaphors  in  the  body  of  it,  and  twenty-one  more  in 
the  postscript.  He  says  he  counted  them  carefully. 

Naturally  enough,  after  all  that  had  happened,  every 
body  at  Shirley  wanted  Eobert  to  come  back  again  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  one  and  all  entreated  him  to  spend 
the  Christmas  there.  This  he  promised  to  do,  but  at  the 
last  moment  he  was  forced  to  abandon  his  purpose  in 
consequence  of  the  utter  failure  of  Mr.  Dudley's  health, 
an  occurrence  which  left  Eobert  with  the  entire  burden 
of  the  paper  upon  him,  and  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
leave  New  York  during  the  holidays.  Even  with  Eobert 
there  the  publishers  were  anxious  about  the  management 
of  the  paper  >at  so  critical  a  time  ;  but  Eobert's  single- 
handed  success  fully  justified  the  confidence  Mr.  Dudley 
had  felt  and  expressed  in  his  ability  to  conduct  the 
paper,  and  when,  a  month  later,  Dudley  resigned  en 
tirely,  to  go  abroad  in  search  of  health,  our  friend  Eobert 
Pagebrook  was  promoted  to  his  place  and  pay,  having 
won  his  way  in  a  few  months  to  a  position  in  his  new 
profession  which  he  had  not  hoped  to  gain  without 
years  of  patient  toil. 


A  MAST  OF  HONOR.  221 

The  rest  of  my  story  hardly  needs  telling.  The  winter 
was  passed  in  hard  work  on  Kobert's  part,  but  the  work 
was  of  a  sort  which  it  delighted  him  to  do.  He  knew  the 
worth  of  printed  words,  and  rejoiced  in  the  possession  of 
that  power  which  the  printing-press  only  can  give  to  a 
man,  multiplying  him,  as  it  were,  and  enabling  him  to  give 
utterance  to  his  thought  in  the  presence  of  an  audience 
too  vast  and  too  widely  scattered  ever  to  be  reached  by 
any  one  human  voice.  It  was  a  favorite  theory  of  his, 
too,  that  printed  words  carry  with  them  some  of  the  force 
expended  upon  them  by  the  press  itself — that  a  sentence 
which  would  fall  meaningless  from  its  author's  lips  may 
mold  a  score  of  human  lives  if  it  be  put  in  type.  He 
was  and  is  an  enthusiast  in  his  work,  and  never 
apostle  went  forth  to  preach  a  new  gospel  with  more  of 
earnestness  or  with  a  stronger  sense  of  responsibility 
than  Robert  Pagebrook  brings  with  him  daily  to  his 
desk. 

The  winter  softened  into  spring,  and  when  the  spring 
was  richest  in  its  promise  there  was  a  quiet  wedding  at 
Shirley. 


My  story  is  fully  told,  but  my  friend  who  writes  novels 
insists  that  I  must  not  lay  down  the  pen  until  I  shall 
have  gathered  up  what  he  calls  the  loose  threads,  and 
knitted  them  into  a  seemly  and  unraveled  end. 

Major  Pagebrook,  dreading  the  possible  exposure  of 
his  wife's  misconduct,  placed  money  in  the  hands  of  a 


222  A  MAN   OF   HONOK. 

friend,  and  that  friend  became  surety  for  Dr.  Harrison's 
appearance  when  called  for  trial.  Of  course  Dr.  Har 
rison  betook  himself  to  other  parts,  going,  indeed,  to 
the  West  Indies,  where  he  died  of  yellow  fever  a  year 
or  two  later.  Foggy  disappeared  also,  but  whither  he 
went  I  really  do  not  know. 

Billy  Barksdale  is  still  a  bachelor,  and  still  likes  to 
listen  while  Aunt  Catherine  explains  relationships  with 
her  keys. 

Col.  Barksdale  has  retired  from  practice,  and  lives 
quietly  at  Shirley. 

Cousin  Sarah  Ann  is  still  Cousin  Sarah  Ann,  but  she 
lives  in  Richmond  now,  having  discovered  years  ago  that 
the  air  of  the  country  did  not  agree  with  her. 

Robert  and  Sudie  have  a  pretty  little  place  in  the 
country,  within  half  an  hour's  ride  of  New  York,  and  I 
sometimes  run  out  to  spend  a  quiet  Sunday  with  Cousin 
Sudie.  Robert  I  can  see  in  his  office  any  day.  Their 
oldest  boy,  William  Barksdale  Pagebrook,  entered  college 
last  September. 


THE 


Hoosier  School-Master, 


By    EDWARD    EG-G-LESTON. 


Illustrated,    with    13    full-page    En 
gravings  and.  JN"xnneroxis  other   Cuts. 


CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
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CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
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CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 
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CHAPTER 
CHAPTER 


COISTTEXsTTS. 

I.— A  Private  Lesson  from  a  Bnll-dog. 
II.— A  Spell  Coming. 
III.— Mirandy,  Hank,  and  Shocky. 
IV.— Spelling  down  the  Master. 
V.— The  Walk  Home. 
VI.-A  Night  at  Pete  Jones's. 
VII.— Ominous  Remarks  of  Mr.  Jones. 
VIII.— The  Struggle  in  the  Dark. 
IX.— Has  God  Forgotten  Shocky  ? 
X.— The  Devil  of  Silence. 
XL-Miss  Martha  Hawkins. 
XIL— The  Hardshell  Preacher. 
XIIL— A  Struggle  for  the  Mastery. 
XIV.— A  Crisis  with  Bud. 
XV.— The  Church  of  the  Best  Licks. 
XVI.— The  Church  Militant. 
XVII.— A  Council  of  War. 
XVTIL— Odds  and  Ends. 
XIX.— Face  to  Face. 
XX.— God  Remembers  Shocky. 
XXL— Miss  Nancy  Sawyer. 
XXIL— Pancakes. 
XXIIL— A  Charitable  Institution. 
XXIV.— The  Good  Samaritan. 
XXV.— Bud  Wooing. 
XXVI. —A  Letter  and  its  Consequences. 
XXVIL— A  Loss  and  a  Gain. 
XXVIII. —The  Flight. 
XXIX.— The  Trial. 
XXX.—"  Brother  Sodom." 
XXXL— The  Trial  Concluded. 
XXXIL— After  the  Battle. 
XXXm.— Into  the  Light. 
XXXIV.— "How  it  Came  Out." 


DPriee,    post-paid,    $1.35. 

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END  OF  THE  WORLD 

A    LOVE    STORY. 

BY 

EDWARD     EQGLESTON, 

Author  of  "  The  Hoosier  School-master,"  etc, 


With    15    full    page    Engravings,    and    numerous    other 
Fine    Illustrations. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.— In  Love  with  a  Dutchman. 
II.— An  Explosion. 
III.— A  Farewell. 
IV.— A  Counter-irritant, 
V.— At  the  Castle. 
VI.— The  Backwoods  Philosopher. 
VII.— Within  and  Without. 
VIII.— Figgers  won't  Lie. 
IX.— The  New  Singing-Master. 

X.— An  Offer  of  Help. 
XL— The  Coon-dog  Argument. 
XIL— Two  Mistakes. 
XIII.— The  Spider  Spins. 
XIV.— The  Spider's  Web. 
XV.— The  Web  Broken. 
XVI.— Jonas  Expounds  the  Subject. 
XVIL— The  Wrong  Pew. 
XVIIL— The  Encounter. 
XIX.— The  Mother. 
XX.— The  Steam-Doctor. 
XXL— The  Hawk  in  a  New  Part. 
XXH. — Jonas  Expresses  his  Opinion 

on  Dutchmen. 

XXm.—  Somethin'  Ludikerous. 
XXIV.— The  Giant  Great-heart. 
XXV.— A  Chapter  of  Betweens. 


CHAPTER 

XXVI.— A  Nice  Little  Game 
XX  VII.— The  Result  of  an  Evening 

with  Gentlemen 

XXVHL— Waking  up  an  Ugly  Cus 
tomer. 

XXIX.— August  and  Norman. 
XXX.— Aground. 
XXXI.-Cynthy  Ann's  Sacrifice. 
XXXIL— Julia's  Enterprise 
XXXIIL— The  Secret  Stairway. 
XXXIV.— The  Interview. 
XXXV.— Getting   Ready   for  tho 

End. 

XXXVI.— The  Sin  of  Sanctimony. 
XXXVII. —The  Deluge. 
XXXVIIL— Scaring  a  Hawk. 
XXXIX.— Jonas  takes  an  Appeal. 
XL.— Selling  Out. 
XLL— The  Last  Day  and  What 

Happened  in  it. 
XLIL— For  Ever  and  Ever. 
XLIIL— The  Midnight  Alarm. 
XLIV.— Squaring  Account*. 
XL V.— New  Plans. 
XLVL— The  Shiveree. 


!»ost-pai<l,    $1.50. 


ORANGE    JUDD    &    COMPANY, 

Broad*vay,  New- York. 


THE    MYSTERY 

OF 

METROPOLISVILLE, 

By   EDWARD    EGGLESTON, 

Author  of  "TJie  Hoosier  BcJiool-Master  "  "T/ie  End  of  the  World, 

etc. 

Witli.    Thirteen    Illustrations. 


CONTENTS. 

Preface. — Words  Beforehand.  Chapter  1.  The  Autocrat  of  the 
Stage-Coach. — 2.  The  Sod  Tavern.— 3.  Land  and  Love.— 4.  Albert 
and  Katy. — 5.  Corner  Lots. — 6.  Little  Katy's  Lover. — 7.  Catching 
and  getting  Caught. — 8.  Isabel  Marlay. — 9.  Lovers  and  Lovers. — 
10.  Plausaby,  Esq.,  takes  a  Fatherly  Interest. — 11,  About  Several 
Things.— 12.  An  Adventure.— 13.  A  Shelter.— 14.  The  Inhabitant. 
—15.  An  Episode.— 16.  The  Return.— 17.  Sawney  and  his  Old  Love. 
— 18.  A  Collision. — 19.  Standing  Guard  in  Vain. — 20.  Sawney  and 
Westcott.— 21.  Rowing.— 22.  Sailing.— 23.  Sinking.— 24.  Dragging. 
—25.  Afterwards.— 26.  The  Mystery.— 27.  The  Arrest.— 28.  The 
Tempter.— 29.  The  Trial.— 30.  The  Penitentiary.— 31.  Mr.  Lurton. 
— 32.  A  Confession.— 33.  Death. — 34.  Mr.  Lurton's  Courtship. — 35. 
Unbarred.— 36.  Isabel.— 37.  The  Last.— Words  Afterwards. 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— BY  FRANK  BEARD. 

His  Unselfish  Love  found  a  Melancholy  Recompense. — The 
Superior  Being. — Mr.  Minorkey  and  the  Fat  Gentleman. — Plau 
saby  sells  Lots. — "  By  George  !  He !  he  1  he  ! " — Mrs.  Plausaby. — 
The  Inhabitant.— A  Pinch  of  SiAiff.— Mrs.  Ferret — One  Savage 
Blow  full  in  the  face.— "What  on  Airth's  the  Matter?"— The 
Editor  of  "  The  Windmill."—"  Get  up  and  Foller ! " 

PRICE,    POST-PAID,   $1.50. 

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245  Broadway,  New-York, 


PRACTICAL  FLORICULTURE; 

A  Guide  to  the  Successful  Propagation  and  Cultivation 

OP 

FLORISTS?  PLAMTS. 

BY  PETER  HENDERSON,  BERGEN  CITY,  N.  J., 


ATJTHOB  or  "GARDENING 


MB.  HENDERSON  is  known  as  the  largest  Commercial  Florist 
In  the  country.  In  the  present  work  he  gives  a  full  account  of  his 
modes  of  propagation  and  cultivation.  It  is  adapted  to  the  wants 
of  the  amateur,  as  well  as  the  professional  grower. 

The  scope  of  the  work  may  be  judged  from  the  following 

TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


Aspect  and  Soil. 

Laying  out  Lawn  and  Flow 
er  Gardens. 

Designs  for  Flower  Gardens. 

Planting  of  Flower  Beds. 

Soils  for  Potting. 

Temperature  and  Moisture. 

The  Potting  of  Plants. 

Cold  Frames  — Winter  Pro 
tection. 

Construction  of  Hot-Beds. 

Greenhouse  Structures. 

Modes  of  Heating. 

Propagation  by  Seeds. 

Propagation  by  Cuttings. 

Propagation  of  Lilies. 

Culture  of  the  Rose. 

Culture  of  the  Verbena. 

Culture  of  the  Tuberose. 


Orchid  Culture. 
Holland  Bulbs. 
Cape  Bulbs. 

Winter-Flowering  Plants. 
Construction  of  Bouquets. 
Hanging  Baskets. 
Window  Gardening. 
Rock-Work. 
Insects. 

Nature's  Law  of  Colors. 
Packing  Plants. 
Plants  by  Mail. 
Profits  of  Floriculture. 
Soft-Wooded  Plants. 
Annuals. 

Hardy  Herbaceous  Plants. 
Greenhouse  Plants. 
Diary  of  Operations  for  each 
Day  of  the  Yeas. 


Beautifully  Illustrated.   Sent  post-paid.   Price,  $1.50. 

ORANGE   JUDD   &    CO., 

245   Broadway     New- fork. 


PARSONS   ON   THE   ROSE. 

A  TREATISE  ON  THE 

Propagation,  Culture,  and  History  of  the  Rose. 

By  SAMUEL  B.  PARSONS. 

NEW    AND     REVISED     EDITION. 

ILLUSTRATED. 


THE  Rose  is  the  only  flower  that  can  be  said  to  have  a  history.  It  is  pop- 
nlar  now,  and  was  so  centuries  ago.  In  his  work  upon  the  Rose,  Mr.  Parsons 
has  gathered  up  the  curious  legends  concerning  the  flower,  and  gives  us  an 
Idea  of  the  esteem  in  which  it  was  hold  in  former  times.  A  simple  garden 
classification  has  been  adopted,  and  the  leading  varieties  under  each  class 
enumerated  and  briefly  described.  The  chapters  on  multiplication,  cultiva 
tion,  and  training,  are  very  full,  and  the  work  is  altogether  the  most  complete 
of  any  before  the  public. 

The  following  is  from  the  author's  Preface : 

"  In  offering  a  new  edition  of  this  work,  tho  preparation  of  which  gave 
us  pleasure  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  we  have  not  only  carefully  revised 
the  garden  classification,  but  have  stricken  out  much  of  the  poetry,  which,  to 
the  cultivator,  may  have  seemed  irrelevant,  if  not  worthless.  For  the  interest 
of  the  classical  scholar,  we  have  retained  much  of  the  early  history  of  the 
Rose,  and  its  connection  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  two  great 
nations  of  a  former  age. 

"  The  amateur  wfll,  we  think,  find  the  labor  of  selection  much  diminished 
by  the  increased  simplicity  of  the  mode  we  have  adopted,  while  the  commer 
cial  gardener  will  in  nowise  be  injured  by  the  change. 

"  In  directions  for  culture,  we  give  the  results  of  our  own  experience,  and 
have  not  hesitated  to  avail  ourselves  of  any  satisfactory  results  in  the  expert 
ence  of  others,  which  might  enhance  the  utility  of  the  work." 


CONTENTS: 

CHAPTER  I. — Botanical  Classification. 

CHAPTER  II.— Garden  Classification. 

CHAPTER  III.— General  Culture  of  the  Rose. 

CHAPTER  IV.— Soil,  Situation,  and  Planting. 

CHAPTER  V.— Pruning,  Training,  and  Bedding. 

CHAPTER  VI. — Potting  and  Forcing. 

CHAPTER  VII. — Propagation. 

CHAPTER  VIII.— Multiplication  by  Seed  and  Hybridizing. 

CHAPTER  IX.— Diseases  and  Insects  Attacking  the  Rose. 

CHAPTER  X.— Early  History  of  the  Rose,  and  Fables  Respectiug  its  Origin. 

CHAPTER  XI. — Luxurious  Use  of  the  Rose. 

CHAPTER  XII.— The  Rose  in  Ceremonies  and  Festivals,  and  in  the  Adonv 

ment  of  Burial-places. 

CHAPTER  XIII.— The  Rose  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
CHAPTER  XIV.— Perfumes  of  the  Rose. 
CHAPTER  XV.— Medical  Properties  of  the  Rose. 
CHAPTER  XVI.— General  Remarks. 

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